


Parade of the Sun

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:46:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 256,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26468908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Floralis Fati is a plant with the power to control time, hidden in the wild, and protected by a magic that strips people of their own while seeking to kill them. Hermione wants it to save the world. Draco wants it to save himself. Sometimes what we want can destroy us - and sometimes it can build us new again.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Part One

**December 18; 4:13am**

Hermione fully believed she was floating in an abyss of darkness, until the sound of waves broke through her muted ears. There was a line of grey at the bottom of the darkness, disappearing as she furrowed her brow in pain. Her body felt drained and useless, head under in a well of exhaustion, and she _ached_. The world lurched with a sudden wash of water and she could feel wetness dot her cheek. There was a constant _woo-chuh, woo-chuch_ from what she knew were the paddles, and the boat she must be on lurched again.

She opened her eyes to sunlight, dark brown wood, and the length of an arm. She breathed in deeply, tasting salt, and something squeezed her hand. The sensation brought a sting of pain, and she blinked furiously, clearing the haze to focus on the hand slipping away from hers. Both hands were dirty, brown embedded within the wrinkles of knuckles and lining fingernails. Their palms were deep shades of red, inching onto the back of their hands in dried rivers, and almost black in the webbing of their fingers. It didn't work, she knew. She could tell by the thickness of the fog settling into her brain, and the slow stuttering of her heartbeat.

"What are we going to do with them?" She froze at the voice, shutting her eyes, and his hand stilled against her fingertips. She needed a plan. She needed to move.

"As soon as we're past the enchantments, we're going to clean them so there's no evidence. They'll be dead in an hour, tops, I reckon. We'll throw them over, and we'll go...wherever or whenever we want." Rich laughter followed, joyous and triumphant, and Hermione could feel the anger begin to swell inside her stomach.

"Think they'll swim to shore?"

"Haven't got a chance. We'll _Obliviate_ them in case any of the local lot find them before they hit the bottom, but look at 'em. Not a way they're reaching the island. Try your wand."

There was a brief flash of color, and she could feel the weight of grime leave her, her shirt no longer sticking to her skin. She could feel something wet slide across her chest and down her side, and knew it was blood coming from her numb shoulder and ribs. Pain blistered out around that merciful numbness, but these wounds were meant to spread and could never heal. She and Malfoy would be skeletons within hours, and it was all his fault.

Her mind was like a free-fall, rapidly descending into the knowledge of what was

inevitable but refusing to accept it. There had to be _something_ they could do if--

" _Obli_ \--" Her eyes flew open at the beginning of the spell, determined to drag up energy and block, or fight, or do _anything_ to save herself. Malfoy moved suddenly, more quickly than she could flinch, and the short, bald man in front of him fell to his knees with a cry.

Hermione got as far as her elbows as Malfoy launched himself past her, and with a cry on the air, everything was a fog and nonexistent. Hermione blinked out at a pair of trousers, and her head felt light and freezing cold. There was something horrible that she had to worry about, but she couldn't remember what it was. Trying to grasp anything beyond the legs in front of her was like trying to clutch mist in her palm.

A flash of white, and then wide, grey eyes filled with something wild. Draco Malfoy's face rose over her, dirt and blood harsh against the paleness of his face. Hermione met the earth like a meteoroid, pain flaring, and shock making her spin. She gasped, but it was weak and strained, her heart pausing for too many beats before giving a painful thump. She couldn't move her left arm at all, and her right jerked and trembled when she tried to raise it. There was no energy to shove him away, so she fell back, her lips moving around his name as she tried to reach for her wand. _Malfoy?_ _Why would_ _Malfoy_ _-_ -

He shoved his fingers into his mouth, panic riding on the rush of her blood, and then he shoved his fingers into her mouth. "Valen--" he gasped, and then his face went completely blank.

_Valentine's Day, where am I, why is Malf--_ , a hundred questions crowded her brain, and there was a brief, consuming purple as she sunk her teeth into Malfoy's fingers, and then everything was dark.

**February 14; 12:23pm**

Hermione drew in a breath so hard and quick it sounded like a hurricane in her eardrums. Her eyes flew open, landing on a white ceiling, and her heart hammered in her chest. She turned her head, staring at the leg of her coffee table and the bottom of her living room couch. She was home, in her flat, without a hint of pain, or salt, or _Draco Malfoy_.

She raised a trembling hand to her forehead, blinking at the threads of carpet. She had never had a dream so vivid. She would have bet anything that the pain had been real, and why did she just dream of _Malfoy_? She hadn't even thought of his existence in months - though it had been a nightmare, so maybe it made more sen--

Hermione quickly moved past the oddity of her dreams to the very real strangeness of the moment. She was lying on her living room floor, fully dressed, and her mouth tasted like the earth - something rich, but there was a crispness to it, like laying in mud on a cold Autumn day. She shoved herself up to a sitting position, confusion twisting her face. She could feel her wand dig into her thigh and spared a glance at her jeans. A squeak of shock constricted her throat and she launched to her feet, pulling in heavy breaths.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, eyes wide and fixed on the dark red stains in her shirt and the leg of her jeans. _Please be wine, please tell me I got drunk and don't remember, please_ , she thought frantically, raising the fabric to her nose, and closing her eyes on a groan.

Her mind raced desperately to recall the last thing she could remember as she yanked her shirt over her head and pulled her wand from her pocket. Her chest and the left side of her stomach were covered in a sheen of blood, and she wiped at it quickly, looking for the wound.

" _Scourgify_ ," she repeated twice, aiming for the shirt and then herself, ignoring the panic in her tone.

She stared blankly at her equally blank skin, and felt her heart pound twice before she ran for the bathroom. _Before the dream, before the dream_. Memories rushed at her in chaotic swirls of distant recollection and fuzzy images. Her desk at the Ministry, eating an orange, watching television, George making confetti stream from the hole where his ear had been. Ron, Dean, and...Seamus? Tripping over her shoelace and the taste of burnt food.

There was no cut on her body. She stared back at her pale reflection, and fear marched up her bones to build a home in her heart. She must have fallen, and that was why she was on the floor. That explained the hazy memories as well. But there was blood, and she hadn't cut herself. Maybe there had been an intruder. Or, her paranoia whispered darkly in her mind, she had gone insane and killed someone. How many television programs had she seen that on?

_Calm it down, Hermione. Logical thinking. Deep breath. Yes. Logical. Log-i-cal._

She rubbed her hands over her face, feeling exhausted and hungry, and like her throat might fly away like sand if she walked too fast. She paused with a wince, slowly dropping her hands from her cheeks. A long, smooth cut ran down her palm, directly along the life line. It was bright red, raised and swollen badly. Just moving her thumb made it hurt, and she figured that said something about her panic earlier to not have noticed it.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the thin, ugly line. She must have hurt her hand on something, that was all. She'd probably tried to grab something to stop her fall, it had cut her, and then she'd knocked her head. She just had to avoid sleeping and check what day it was again. It was normal to suffer some memory loss when you receive a blow to the head, and also to forget what happened. A little post-bump confusion, that's it. She certainly hadn't _killed_ anyone.

Hermione laughed at herself, feeling for the tender bump at the back of her pounding head, and made way towards her calendar.

**10:21pm**

"I still say you're mad for taking your N.E.W.T.s early." Ron shook his head, sliding a Butterbeer towards her as Dean set them on the table.

"I was a year behind. I read all of the textbooks for the year during the summer--" Hermione started to explain _again_. The fact that she had to keep repeating this to him was making her head hurt even more. This entire situation seemed very familiar - she blamed it on the hard hit to her head, and the fact that she had gone out with the three of them almost a month ago.

"I remember," Ron muttered, his expression sour.

"And the professors let me move at a faster pace once I asked them. I was already running behind, so it was prudent for me to take the N.E.W.T.s when I was ready instead of waiting months I didn't need."

Most of the students in her year either took their N.E.W.T.s early through the Ministry, didn't take them at all, or only came back to Hogwarts for three months. They had to finish up the last month of their year they had had before the battle, and there had been advance classes set up for Defense and Muggle Studies - the Death Eaters hadn't properly taught those two classes at all.

Hogwarts was a comfort, but too much had changed and it had been time to move on. She had returned for her seventh year with only a few others from her original year, and the common room felt empty even when it was full. Her two best friends weren't there, and though Hogwarts looked the same once they fixed the damage over the summer, she knew it wasn't. When Headmistress McGonagall asked if she wanted to take her N.E.W.T.s early, Hermione, Luna, and Dean had jumped on the opportunity. It could never be what it was, and it was time to put Hogwarts behind them.

"Are you going back in June? For the finishing ball," Dean said, raising his voice over the sudden wolf whistle from Seamus.

The pack of women barely spared him a glance before weaving their way to the bar.

"I think so. It depends on work." She felt very adult when she said this.

"What exactly do you do there?"

"She files," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "They had to find someone who liked boring--"

"I don't just file, Ron," Hermione snapped. "I'm new to the Department, so I have to earn my way. They give me a lot of odds-and-ends until I earn a proper position. Then I can work at helping to build a better society and really change some of the pureblood laws that have been in--"

"All right, all right, no talking about work," Ron cut her off, waving his hands. "We're here to ignore the holiday with the rest of the pub. Let's talk about..."

"Quidditch?" Hermione supplied, barely restraining the roll of her eyes. They twitched oddly instead, making Ron's grin blurry as he raised his drink.

"Ginny's been kicking arse at Hogwarts. If they don't win the Cup, I'll be surprised."

"Yeah, I heard she was getting some attention from actual teams!" Ron grinned, and Hermione was pretty sure she had heard that as well.

Hermione zoned out, catching a sympathetic look from the group of women at the bar. Likely because she was spending Valentine's Day at a pub with a bunch of men who were obviously not her love interests. She was glad Dean and Seamus had decided to come to the pub that night as well, or it would have been a lot more awkward.

She and Ron had been together for two months before the shine of their relationship began to fade. When the haze of victory finally began to settle, and they found they weren't fighting for their lives and the world anymore, things became a little clearer. Ron decided to go work with George at his shop, and Hermione was adamant about returning to Hogwarts. She hadn't worried about it, since Harry and Ginny were making a tentative go of things while Harry was set to start Auror training and Ginny was returning with her. It would have been a small bump, and they could have made it work.

But then Hermione had started to wonder if they _should_ try to make it work. It had started with that stupid book she had found, and she had been caught between being pleased at his attempt and upset that he was changing himself. She had started to wonder if his lightheartedness was really that great of a balance to her own seriousness, and about how he was unbelievably thick when it came to her feelings or her side of the argument. He had different interests, and he wasn't the kind of person she could discuss her books with. In fact, most intelligent conversation or talk about textbook knowledge, and he brushed her off. Most of the time he didn't even care to try and understand and just ignored her when she got into one of her "fits". She didn't find his jokes funny, or his lack of ambition, and Jesus, it turned into everything. It turned into the way he ate, and leaving the toilet seat up, and the puffiness of his face in the morning.

By the time she got to the last one, she decided a break was in order. She decided that maybe she had been more enchanted by the idea of them than the actual thing, and she was annoyed far more often than she was happy. After Hogwarts, she had said, and they had both sulked for awhile, and then he agreed. But she had been out of Hogwarts for almost a month now, and neither of them had said a word. She didn't know what either one of them wanted, and she didn't know if it was time to figure that out yet.

"Her-mi-one," Ron called, and she snapped out of her thoughts, meeting bright blue eyes across the table. He laughed at her, an affectionate look crossing his face as he clinked their mugs together. He nodded encouragingly when she grabbed it, and she gave him an exasperated look. He only grinned in response, and so she smiled too, taking a sip.

**February 17; 9:29am**

The pages fell away from her fingers and she quickly scanned the numbers, going three pages past what she needed before she stopped. Annabell, her partner for the assignment, was making some of the most annoying noises in her throat as she chugged her coffee. Hermione twitched her eyebrow and cut her eyes over to her partner for three solid seconds - just enough to make her self-conscious without appearing rude. They were partners after all, and Annabell had been with the department for two years now.

Hermione sincerely hoped that Annabell's lack of a rise in the department was no indication towards Hermione's future. Annabell was still treated as little more than an unlearned intern. She had been partnered with Hermione to assist her on her first project, but it was still only the fourth one the woman had in two years. The meek-looking brunette, with glasses that ruled her face, seemed to have the same jobs Hermione did as a beginner. Fetching coffee, organizing files, and researching for other people's assignments. Tedious grunt work given to the new employees until they earned more credibility and knowledge - either Annabell hadn't showed much initiative, or it was incredibly hard to be taken seriously in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Hermione was pretty sure her assignment was a throwaway. _Dominus Temporis_ stared back at her, bold black against the golden page. It appeared to be some plant that hadn't been seen in over a thousand years. There had been a lot of rumors circulating the past two weeks though, mostly heard by undercover Aurors searching out the last of the Death Eaters. It was the duty of the Magical Law Department to look into it, but no one actually believed the plant had been discovered. If it ever existed at all, beyond myth and wishful imaginations. No one thought anything solid would turn up, and it was mostly a required waste of time that they dumped on their newest employee. Regardless, Hermione was going to submit a paper so saturated in research, with a search of dead-ends so thorough, she would blow their minds.

No offense to her partner, but there was no way Hermione wasn't going to be where she wanted to be two years from now. Changing laws, and making a difference - not changing the lack of organizational skills in the department and making coffee runs.

"What do you want to do now that we know what it is?" Annabell asked in a tone that made Hermione think the woman felt she knew the right answer, and was waiting for Hermione to give her a wrong one.

"I'm going to make sure I know as much as possible about the plant. Nothing has listed its physical attributes, and the text in the other book hinted at it having other magical abilities. Once I know everything about it, I-- we can start to move forward."

"How do you plan on moving forward?"

Hermione gave an annoyed look to the words in front of her, and glanced up at her partner. Annabell had to constantly push her glasses up because of her small nose and the flatness of her cheeks, and every other time she would take them off and clean them. As if her glasses were dirty again in those thirty seconds. Hermione cleared her throat, working for patience. The last few days had been stressful, ever since her freak accident on Valentine's Day. She hadn't been able to get a firm grasp on her memories, or even remember how she had fallen. She kept experiencing moments of extreme dj vu; some to the point where she would stand there and stare for several stupid-looking seconds. The last one had been last night, when she was going home from work and had nearly face-planted before retying her shoelace. She wasn't sure if the weirdness had passed, or if she was just too concentrated on the assignment she had gotten this morning to notice.

"Well, we can compile a list of the plant's origins. So far, Germany has been mentioned twice. The Aurors are keeping their ears open to the rumors, and we should have a report from them by next week. That might give us locations as well. I'll have to wait for that list, and the conclusion of my research, before I can make a real decision."

"I see."

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. Hermione liked to make informed decisions, and she had decided to go with her own instinct on this over Annabell's...experience, since they were first assigned. In fact, judging by Annabell's two years stalemate with the department, Hermione might be more inclined to do the very opposite of what she suggested or agreed with. No offense to her, or anything.

Annabell sniffed very loudly for a library, and ran her finger under her nose. It wasn't even a discreet way to ease an itch, but more a way to wipe off anything that might have come out. Gross. She could have transfigured some parchment into a tissue or something, at least. She looked up at her, and Hermione quickly schooled her features at the other woman's tentative smile.

"Found anything useful?"

Hermione stretched her lips back at her, and returned her eyes to the book. "Not very. I've only read accounts of it being in Germany, and that the plant can make you see the future when you touch it. If this was over a thousand years ago, it could have been an attempt at explaining a Seer."

"It's likely a myth, yes. Something with this kind of magic would have been revered, and people wouldn't have let it fade out."

"Unless they didn't know how to reproduce it, or no more grew where they found it."

"I thought you believed it was a myth?"

"It's the most likely, but I'm not ruling out the possibility of its existence," Hermione explained, gesturing down to the book.

Annabell shrugged and sniffed again. "What is your Seer theory?"

"It's not really a theory. If someone had such an ability, that no one else seemed to have, someone could have said it was a plant that gave them the power. I mean, one event could have caused this to happen. Someone hears a prophecy from a Seer and notices that they're holding onto a tree at the time. A year later, the prophecy comes true, and it's a magical plant that gives power to people to see the future."

"Hm. I think I'm going to get some texts on prophecies and Seers and see if anything is mentioned."

Hermione nodded. "Good idea," she muttered, bending her head to read.

Annabell returned several minutes later, shuffling the new books onto the table as Hermione scribbled on her parchment. "Anything useful?"

"It mentions a beginning in Italy, but nothing new. The author wrote another book with more details on the subject though, so..." Hermione trailed off, gesturing to the stacks behind her as she stood.

She glanced down at her notebook, wandering through the stacks until she found the right aisle. She was only two steps down the narrow opening when she looked up at the creak in front of her and her feet froze. Her left hovered in the air for two seconds before she slowly placed it against the ground. Draco Malfoy stared back at her, equally frozen in a mix of surprise and caution. She could practically feel the outline of her wand against the back of head, tucked into the knot of her hair, but she knew she wouldn't need it. She wouldn't trust Malfoy with a pet rock, but she trusted that he was a coward who liked his freedom too much to really try anything.

The dream flashed back into her mind - the desperation and panic on his stained face, and his fingers in her mouth. She had been trying to ignore the fact that it happened, but his presence brought the image back in bold lines. He looked a little taller now, his shoulders more broad, having done that last bit of filling out the past year. His hair was a little longer, and he didn't look skinny-starved anymore, but he still looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

The last time she had really seen him had been a year ago, in the Great Hall, huddled alone with his parents, after the battle. She had seen him briefly after that, in a flash of hair and nervous hands at the Wizengamot. Harry had been there to testify to Narcissa Malfoy saving his life, and of Draco Malfoy's reluctance to identify him, Ron, and Hermione at Malfoy Manor. She could honestly say that she had hoped to never see him again in her life.

He started forward first, his steps even and his eyes diverted towards the books. She briefly noted the lack of a swagger in his step, and the rigidness to his spine, before looking at the books as well. She watched him from the corner of her eye, though, and saw when he reached forward the quickly pull a book from the second row. Hermione paused, glancing down at her notebook, and let her gaze drift down the row of books, calculating numbers and the alphabet.

Her gut twisted as she looked at the book Malfoy gripped, squinting her eyes as if they could suddenly zoom in on the cover or spine. Facts flew through the front of her mind: a powerful magic plant, the ability to see the future, the rumors heard from pure-blood circles, the hints at greater abilities that she had yet to read about. It certainly sounded like the sort of thing Malfoy would be interested in.

She watched as he tucked the book under his arm, and her eyes flashed to his. His left eye twitched twice, and she recognized the suspicion mirrored back at her. There was a tense, awkward moment before his face went blank and his chin lifted. He turned abruptly, his cloak whipping around his knees as he stalked out of the aisle. The swagger was back, she noticed.

She waited until the sharp rap of his footsteps faded before moving forward, her finger running along the spines. She glanced at her notebook and then the empty spot three times before cursing under her breath, hitting her notebook off her thigh.

"Miss Granger?"

"Hermione," she muttered, giving a disgusted look towards where the book should have been.

"Do you want to check these out on the Ministry account? I'm rather hungry, so I thought we could get some takeaway and--" Annabell finally took notice of Hermione's waving hands, shaking head, and quick steps. "What?"

"I..." Hermione licked her lips, swallowed. "I think it's best if no one hears we're working for the Ministry. They might get curious about what we're researching."

"Oh. Librarians are--"

"No, no. It's fine if the librarian knows, of course, just...other people." _Draco Malfoy_. Like Draco frigging _Malfoy_.

The book was about Herbology, though. Judging by the volume, it was fairly comprehensive. It was not a definite that Malfoy was researching that plant, of all the ones that would be in that book. He was good at potions, she remembered - perhaps he was looking up information for ingredients. _Or_ , he was after what she was after. She couldn't do much about it if he was. It wasn't illegal to research it, and it wasn't illegal if he decided to search for it either.

She would just have to keep an eye out, that was all. And put all the books about, mentioning, or referencing the plant on Ministry restriction. Just in case.

**February 18; 6:32pm**

Hermione had many skills, honed over a lifetime of research, studying, and practice. Among this long list was her ability to read and operate at the same time. The book would remain glued to her eyesight as she went to the loo, or made tea, or cooked a dinner. She never allowed physical need - beyond sleep - to get in the way of a good story, or good information.

Hermione had been an avid reader for most of her life. Her mum or dad would read her a story every night before she went to bed, and when she was old enough to read them herself, it would be under the covers with her key chain flashlight until she was so tired she couldn't see. When she was eight, she and her parents had visited Australia, and that little flashlight had been hanging from a display rack in a hut on the beach. She _had_ to have it, with all the urgency that children possess for _need_ of seemingly useless things. She still had it, shoved into a shoebox on a shelf in her closet. It felt a little tainted now; adult choices that took the shine out of the memories of her youth.

The dynamics had changed in the relationship she had with her parents. They loved each other the same, and after some time, they had understood. It was still hard for them to accept that she had been fighting in a war, that she could have died, and that they had been clueless. _I don't give a damn about my safety, Hermione Jane! I am your father, I'm.._. and then he had looked so lost, like she had ripped him apart and he couldn't begin to know how to put himself back together.

Her mother had cried, and kept shaking her head, and Hermione had cried too. Had cried about a lot of different things, but the memory enchantment the most, at that moment. It had been unbelievably painful to close the front door with her trunk packed and a war in front of her, and to know her parents didn't even know they were parents at all. That they had no memory of her entire existence, or their love for her, or her love for them. But they would be safe that way; unable to get caught, or to rush off with the braveness she had learned from them and try to help in a war they couldn't possibly fight. It had been better for them to believe she was never there, in case she was never there again. It was the best choice, and it felt like the hardest one of all. The consequences of it still echoed through their eyes.

Because there was a sort of fear there, now. A careful edge to their loving look, a stiffness to their bones if they caught sight of her wand, a displacement of trust that had once been so embedded. They grasped the power she held over other people, and they had learned it in the worst way. She had promised that the war was over and that she would never do it again. They had cried, and embraced, and repeated love like a chorus of bitterly happy song for days. But there was a crack, a splintering to the base of the family she had left all those years ago. Trepidation and anger replaced the awe for the other half of her world, of herself. Her guilt hung like rainclouds from her heartstrings, dark, heavy and thick, but if given the chance she knew she would never change it with a fierceness that would have blinded them.

Hermione's head snapped towards the living room of her small flat, the roar from the fireplace followed by scraping and clunking noises. She bit her lip, looking up at the clock on her kitchen wall. The cat's tail and paw pointed at quarter-to-seven, and Hermione groaned loudly, tucking a napkin into the book to mark her spot.

"Hermione?"

"Neville, I am so sorry," she paused as he laughed. "Just give me _five minutes_ , and I'll be ready."

She rushed down the hallway, throwing him a smile once she hit the living room, and sped off towards her bedroom. "Harry said you had some assignment for your job, so I came a little early in case you were buried in books."

"Well, I normally hate being so predictable, but at least now I won't be late," she called through the closed door, yanking her shirt off on her way to the closet.

"I was going to come an hour ago because I was so bloody bored. I really wish McGonagall would let me start my apprenticeship this year. Hanging out with Gran all the time is starting to get to me. My knees actually cracked when I stood up yesterday, and I've come to really appreciate naps."

Hermione laughed, pulling on jeans and the first shirt she grabbed. "Ron told me you spent Valentine's with Luna."

"No, I spent Valentine's searching for Flobwiggles with Luna."

"Flobwiggles?"

"Cousin to the Flobberworm. Apparently they live deep in the woods, crawl in through the ears of people and animals, and explode when they've burrowed into your limbs. The Quibbler was doing an article. So I ended up stomping through the woods with this protective gear her father made - which I'm pretty sure weighed about as much as Luna - and picking the buds off trees."

"That sounds..." Hermione tried, pulling her hair tight, and wrapping it up into a complicated ball of ties and clips.

Neville laughed as an answer, and the old springs in her couch squeaked. She hopped around on one foot, pulling her socks on and searching for her shoes. Neville was silent, and Hermione realized her coffee table was piled with books, all of them marked on the pages about a plant she wasn't supposed to talk about. No one outside of the department was really supposed to know what her assignment was about. The less people that knew about the rumors, the better, and having it spread that the Ministry was looking into it would only cause more.

She opened her bedroom door with a little too much force and Neville jumped when it hit off the wall. He sent her a glance over his shoulder, and she yanked her trainers on, watching him bend his head towards his lap. Too late, then.

"You're researching the Floralis Fati?"

"The what?"

Neville grinned at her, as she rounded the couch, and shrugged his shoulders up. Like a puppy attacking you with love after it chewed your slipper to bits. "I got curious. I'm going to be a Herbology professor, and you've got about a dozen Herbology books mixed in here. I won't tell anyone you're researching it - promise."

"Thank you, Neville."

She briefly thought of joking about Ministry punishments for friends who leaked information, but a lot of things came rushing into her brain at the words 'Ministry punishment', and she stood in her memories instead. She closed her mouth on the image of Neville's beaming, bruised face in a small passageway, and smiled at him. Sometimes she thought of her friends and bravery, and it made her heart stop a little, and pride take the shape of her spine. Sometimes she dreamt of the room of soldiers Neville built, and then of him standing before Voldemort with the Sword of Gryffindor swinging from his fists. Sometimes she wondered where they would have been without him that night, and had to remember how to breathe.

"What did you call it? Floralis Fati?"

"Yeah. It has dozens of names, but it was usually called that. The will of the goddess Flora. The last hundred years or so, they started to call it Dominus Temporis. Lord of time. I mean, there are a couple different translations, but they all mean the same."

Hermione scribbled the name into her notebook. "I could probably..."

"You haven't... I mean... I know you can't really tell me, but if you've found it..." There was a spark of excitement so bright behind the curiosity and apprehension in his look that Hermione almost laughed.

"No, no. It's just research. It's curious, though, the way they talk about it in a lot of the texts I've read. Like it's...holy."

"But if it were true, if the plant was still in existence... Wouldn't you want to get your hands on it?" Neville looked as if he was daydreaming about it that very moment.

"I don't know if I would want to see the future. I mean... It would come in handy when it came to making decisions but--"

"Beyond that, though." Hermione stared back at him as he spoke, unsure if she should try to get more information from him, but he took the choice from her. "Time travel, as far into the past or future as you want - not just seeing it, but _being_ there. The ability to cure disease? Or, at least, to turn the body back to the point in time before it became diseased. And you read the story of Libitina and Lucina, right?"

Hermione blinked at him three times and released the breath she had been holding. She scanned the towers of books on her coffee table, the half-filled page in her notebook, and then returned her eyes to Neville. He was excited, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide. Time _travel_? Curing diseases? Either Annabell's curse had transferred to her, she hadn't found the right books yet, or all this information had been listed under the plant's other name. She had only read brief mentions on the other powers of the plant, but _curing disease_?

"Libitina...goddess of the dead, and Lucina, the goddess of births. Right?"

"Right, exactly. Short version, this herb, or flower, or tree...people started to use this plant. And every time it was used, Libitina and Lucina began to mold together, into one being. They had to--"

"So death and birth? Together..." Hermione looked up at the ceiling, her brain turning quickly. "Wait, it has the power to kill? If touched, or ingested, or--"

"I'm not sure. Most people take the story to mean the plant has the power to birth the dead."

"Resurrection."

"Exactly, But even beyond that - I mean immortality."

Hermione fell back into the couch, staring at Neville's knee but not really seeing it. This went far beyond what she thought it did. Being able to see the future, any part of it that you wanted to, was powerful in itself. But being able to turn the body back to a point in time to save the person from disease, and even _death_? To bring the dead back? No wonder it carried connections to gods and goddesses, and why most books referenced it as if they worshipped it. That sort of power was... Well, most likely false. If such a plant had truly been discovered, she could see someone trying to keep it to themselves, but they would also try to get money for it, or use the power to rule people or civilizations. There would have been wars fought over it.

Unless it just died out. Or the person who discovered it died somehow before they told anyone where they found it. But God, if she managed to find it? If there was fact behind all these rumors circulating? A cure for _diseases_. No one would have to suffer like Lupin, and if it restored the appearance as well, then Bill, and-- Every disease in the _world_. The amount of people that could _save_!

Hermione's mind was absolutely spinning with questions and possibilities. She faced Neville, mouth open to ask one of them, any of them, when the flames roared up in front of them. Harry stumbled through, dusting off his shirt and raising his eyebrows at her. She gave him an almost bashful look after a glance at her watch revealed they were five minutes past seven.

"We were supposed to leave for dinner five minutes ago. I've been listening to Ron and Luna bicker about some Quibbler creature for the past fifteen minutes, and--"

"I'm sorry, Harry. We got a bit wrapped up."

Harry took a step to his right and swept his arm towards the fireplace. He narrowed his eyes at the frantic look she sent the books, but closed his mouth when she stood. "Dean and Lavender showed up too."

"All right," Hermione said, shrugging at the cautious look he gave her. "What were you guys talking about anyway?"

"Flobwiggles," Neville shot, laughing when Harry groaned.

Hermione didn't miss the curious look he sent her coffee table before throwing his arm around her shoulders, leading them both into the cramped fireplace. She popped her hip against his, distracting him, and threw the powder.

As they spun through fireplaces, a sudden thought occurred to her. Draco Malfoy, his knuckles white as he clutched a book and tucked it under his arm. A plant that could let you see the future, time travel, bring immortality, and _resurrect the dead_. If _Malfoy_ was looking for the Dominus Temporis, there was no limit to how devastating it could be if he found it. In her head there were red eyes and her best friend's body still and frozen in Hagrid's arms. Hermione could feel her heart pick up a painful beat, and her fingers curl to tight fists.

There was no way in hell Malfoy would get it before her.


	2. Part Two

**February 20; 11:49am**

She shifted the stack of books in her arm, opening her mouth to the cold wind in an attempt to cool her burning tongue. The Styrofoam cup had felt lovely against her freezing fingers, but the scalding tea inside seemed content to singe her taste buds off. It was in this awkward, hunched, shifting, oddly bent, tongue hanging out of her mouth moment that she spotted him.

She almost convinced herself she was seeing things. The past several days had been spent immersed in research, as the new name Neville supplied had at least doubled the books on her coffee table. This left her with little sleep, blurry eyes, and a background of paranoia over how far ahead of her Malfoy might be. His face was turned towards his shoulder, half tucked into the collar of his coat, but there was no mistaking the condescending line of his eyebrows or the white-blond hair caught in the wind. She did her best to melt into the crowd of two people around her, and snapped her mouth shut as he turned onto a side street.

She shot a look to either side of her, her arms swinging with her indecision on what to do with all the things weighing her down, before she took off across the cobblestone. The tea was sloshing against the lid, and the books were threatening escape from the nook of her arm and chest with every step. She gave a remorseful look to her drink as she dropped it in a rubbish bin and yanked her wand out, slowing her steps to peek around the corner of the building. Malfoy's back was to her, leather gloves gleaming in the faint sunlight as he smoothed his hair with one hand and reached for a door with the other. The sign above the door told her it was an antique shop, and she drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down.

Malfoy might have been rich, but she didn't think he would go shopping for expensive antiques to spruce up his bedroom. Not that she knew much about him beyond him being an ex-Death Eater and one of the worst prats she ever had the displeasure to meet. This whole situation reminded her of the summer before sixth year, and she wondered, again, what would have happened if they had figured it out then instead of when Dumbledore lay crumpled at the bottom of a tower.

She wished she had Harry's cloak at the moment. As it were, she had nothing that could help her, and so she resigned herself to leaning against the store and wait. She made random, quick glances around the corner, and checked her watch an average of every thirty seconds. He was probably browsing around, and might even purchase something. Perhaps he was shopping for his mother. She remembered a few antique things on her journey through part of his house, though she could have been delusional with fear and pain.

He was heading back when she peeked around again, his lips pulled up in a smirk and his eyes sweeping the road in front of him. She pulled back, sure he had spotted her in that split second at the end. Turning quickly, she threw open the door of the shop she was standing in front of and ducked inside. She went into the second aisle, away from the windows, and stared at boxes of quills as she counted in her head. He would be turning onto this road now, and if he had seen her, he would be heading towards the shop. He might be pausing now, and... Hermione held her breath, waiting for the sound of cold air being sucked into the small shop, but it didn't come. This whole thing would go a lot smoother if she knew what he was up to, while he had no idea about her. He would be more careful -- _too_ careful, maybe.

She counted to thirty and walked out, trying to look occupied while covertly scanning the windows. He wasn't there, or on the street when she exited the shop, or on the side street when she turned down it. She couldn't stop herself from scanning continuously on her brisk walk towards the shop, and the looks she received were mixed between wondering recognition and fearful suspicion. She thought briefly of turning up the collar of her coat and covering her mouth with it, as her eyes darted back and forth along the street like a true detective incognito. She snorted loudly at the mental image, and the old woman next to her pulled farther away.

It was the first time she had ever scared an old person before. She blamed it directly on Malfoy and how she was waiting for him to pop out from a corner at any second. Malfoy was probably a master at scaring old people and little children, as she doubted anyone else moved away from him in fear. At least not anyone who knew more about him than _Malfoy_ and _Death Eater_. At the thought of him scaring old people, an image rose from the depth of her imagination. It was the one that had formed after Harry told her the story about Dumbledore and the Astronomy Tower. In her head, Malfoy's hand is shaking and his face is the same as it had been in the Room of Requirement when the fire started. She could not imagine fear on Dumbledore's face. She doubted that it had been there at all.

A small _ding_ came from the back of the shop when she opened the door, and there was a distant muttering as she weaved through the displays. She didn't know what she was looking for, or how she could figure out what Malfoy was doing here, but...

Hermione's eyes narrowed in on the delicate vase on the counter, a woman tucking it carefully into a box and murmuring several Cushioning charms. The woman was no doubt readying it for delivery, and since Malfoy seemed to be their latest customer, she was assuming he must have purchased it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's exquisite," Hermione sincerely agreed, tracing the intricate pattern with careful eyes.

"It is the first in a collection we have acquired from the Fifteenth Century. This is a Vietnamese--"

"The Fifteenth Century?" Hermione stared at the white ceramic, the delicate blue vines, and the way it _shined_. "What magical enhancements have been placed--"

"None at all. The piece was recently discovered from a shipwreck in pristine collection."

"A shipwreck? Where was this shipwreck located?"

"We were asked to keep that confidential," was the woman's tentative reply, and Hermione gave her an incredulous look. "We have documentation, of course, proving the authenticity."

Hermione took a slow step forward, staring at the vase again. "Does it have any magical properties?"

"Beyond its beauty, no." The employee smiled, her fingers flicking over the edges of the box, as if hesitant to take it away from their gazes. "We examine all of our pieces extensively and thoroughly for any magic, new or old."

"Of course," Hermione whispered, her brain too busy for a normal tone of voice. Neville was flashing through her mind, and the only thing she could think for several breaths was _time travel_. Malfoy purchasing an antique from the Fifteenth Century in such perfect condition it looked as if it were made yesterday? Hermione didn't believe in coincidence - especially in this world.

"Would you like to be added to our contact list for when the rest of the collection arrives? W--"

"Actually," Hermione started, clearing her throat and treading carefully. "I work with the Department of Magical Law. There have been reports of thievery of Fifteenth Century artifacts that might be coming into England. I need to know where you acquired this vase."

Hermione pulled her Ministry Identification out, showing it to the woman long enough for her to see the picture, the seal, and 'The Department of Magical Law'. The employee's hesitant look turned into one of surprise, and the flaps on the box were quickly pressed shut.

"If you'll hold for a moment..."

Hermione gave a nod, shoving her identification back into her pocket, and hoping this worked. The woman turned, quickly making her way into a back room, and looking over her shoulder twice. How had Malfoy found out about this? Perhaps his family was on one of these contact lists for when something really unique came in. Or he had more contacts or information regarding the Dominus Temporis, which would be a very bad thing for Hermione. Perhaps the world at large, too. And if this vase was connected to the plant... Did that mean that someone had already found the plant? That they had traveled back in time, procured the vase, and returned a few minutes later with a new vase that was centuries old?

"Can I help you?"

Hermione focused on the short man, wisps of hair combed in thin lines over his balding scalp. "I work with the Department of Magical Law, and I'm investigating--"

"My assistant informed me. I don't have any information for you."

"Are you sure?" She gave a significant look towards the box. "It is within the Ministry's rights to investigate your shop, and all artifacts within it, if we must."

Hermione felt a small flare of guilt for this, but she knew he must have information. She understood that it was still hard to trust the Ministry when it had only fallen from Voldemort's hands a year ago, but this was _important_.

"I have nothing to hide with my antiques. We are resp--"

"Except for this one?" Hermione asked, waving her hand towards the box.

The man considered her, brushing a nervous hand across his head. If the Ministry took all of his antiques to investigate, he would lose a lot of business. Even more so with the rumors and gossip it was bound to create. Perhaps most importantly, he must know that withholding information from them would directly implicate him in this so-called _thievery_. This was the second old person she scared today, but she reminded herself that if this was truly about the Dominus Temporis, it really was for the greater good. She had to stop herself from giving him a reassuring smile.

"Andrick Cherkesov. In Russia. That is all I know."

Hermione nodded, stepping away from the counter in relief. "Thank you."

The man muttered something Hermione couldn't hear, though she doubted she would have wanted to. She wondered if Malfoy had managed to get this information from the man as well. Though the shop owner didn't seem the type to willingly give up information to a Death Eater when he was so concerned with the respectability of his store. Maybe Malfoy had just wanted to get the vase away from other people, in case they got curious and decided it was proof that the plant existed. He wouldn't want competition. _Or_ he thought the antique itself held some sort of knowledge.

"Two more things," Hermione called, and she was pretty sure the old man rolled his eyes when she turned back around. "It is best if we keep this between us, for now. Also, I want you to put that vase on hold, just in case it is connected. Keep it somewhere secure and out of sight. I might need to return to inspect it."

**February 21; 2:29pm**

Logically, she had started researching the name in connection to antique dealing. Luckily, she found out that the name was a store and not a person, instead of taking a Portkey into Russia and searching name directories for a week. Of course, it could have actually been a person and not the store, but she was guessing if someone had the plant, they would be covering their tracks. They might have even given a fake a name, or just lied about it.

With only one way to really find out, Hermione headed into the small shop and went directly to the counter. She planned on asking about the collection and try to coax information out of the person as she did it. It was too messy to use the Ministry fib within the politics of a foreign country, and she could only hope that the shop owner in England hadn't sent news of her before her arrival.

Hermione cast a Translation charm on herself, and when she began to turn her wand towards the man, he held up his hand to stop her. His eyes were as black as ink, dark nothingness, and Hermione quickly avoided eye contact. He raised his own wand, casting a Translation charm on himself, and she stared at the spot between his eyes.

"Hello. I heard that your shop recently acquired a very beautiful and valuable collection. Vietnamese, I believe?"

"Miss..."

"Granger."

"How did you hear about this collection?" The words were in perfect English, but she could tell from the movement of his mouth that he was speaking Russian.

Hermione had expected this question. She had thought briefly of naming the shop in England, but if he had contacted this man, it would only confirm who she was. "My private dealer, Pravok. I decided to come here myself to--"

A tall, thin man came rushing up from behind her, his eyes darting everywhere to avoid the pools of black in front of them. He muttered something quickly, a rise and fall of sound to Hermione, but the older man's eyes never left her face. A woman came around the corner, placing two flutes of champagne on a display counter, and casting a Cooling charm on the bottle. All eyes turned towards the door when a rush of wind blew into the shop - two expectant, one blank, and the last confused.

Draco Malfoy emerged from between two large displays, and Hermione's stomach sunk. She had been hoping the man's reluctance in England had proved impossible for Malfoy, or not being able to get the vase, or hopefully getting stuck in the name directories if nothing else. He froze in his steps, like he had at the library, and long fingers paused in the removal of his gloves. He was surprised, but the wideness of his eyes quickly narrowed, and she recognized the angry glint as well as the rest of him. He looked expensive, his dark clothes immaculate and no doubt tailored. The buttons on his robe, the bold 'M' that formed the brooch of his traveling cloak, and his boots shined brighter than his perfectly combed hair. It was disgusting. It made her notice the wayward curls and scuffed trainers on her own person, and she glared at him harder.

"Draco Malfoy, by appointment," the woman introduced.

"There has been an error in your scheduling, Mister Malfoy," the man behind the counter said, and Hermione turned her head to look at his forehead. "Miss Granger, I know nothing about this collection you seek. The shop is closing now."

"I request a private scheduling," Malfoy drawled behind her, and she caught the dark undertone of his anger.

"We will send you another date through owl." The man waved his wand at himself, ending the Translation charm and the conversation, before speaking rapid Russian to the other employee.

"If you please," the other man started, gesturing towards the door, his shoes clicking off the floor. "The shop must be closed now. It is Olegushka's birthday today, so if you please."

"I do not _please_. My time is valuable," Malfoy bit, and Hermione snorted. He looked at her like he desperately wished he could burn her alive with his gaze alone, and she looked back like he would be dead before he could try.

"There was an error in your scheduling, Mister Malfoy. All my fault, you see, I am dearly sorry. The shop is closing."

The man behind the counter had disappeared, and the woman looked like she was going to down the champagne the moment they were out of sight. The younger man looked both annoyed and desperate, and Hermione scanned all around her for anything that looked new. Either the shop owner in England had sent word, or the fact that two foreigners showed up looking for the same thing gave them away. Personally, she was blaming it on Malfoy. If he hadn't shown up, she might have gotten whatever information the man was obviously trying to hide. She was trying to do her job, and if the plant really existed, she was going to help a lot of people. What Malfoy wanted with the plant wasn't going to be anything good.

Hermione stood her ground by the counter, unmoving until Malfoy finally turned for the door. He looked like he had a board strapped to his back, he walked so straight, yanking his gloves back on. The employee threw open the door muttering about rescheduling owls and apologies. Malfoy gave him such a dark look, the man stumbled back two steps before stopping himself.

Hermione glared at the back of his head, the door slamming shut behind her, followed by several waves of magical reinforcement. The blond hesitated, took two steps, hesitated again, and then turned to face her. Hermione crossed her arms, discreetly drawing her wand from the arm of her robe.

"Following me, Granger?" His lips were pulled up in a sneer, and she caught the small flick of his wrist and the bend of his hand which no doubt sent his wand down into his palm. "Has stalking been legalized in the Ministry now?"

"I was at the shop first, Malfoy. It hardly makes sense to say that I was following you. But _I_ suppose _you_ never had much sense to begin with."

"This from the one who just fucked up everything?"

" _Me_? I'm sure he'll be willing to sell me that end table once your noxious presence is no longer polluting the shop." Hermione tried for one last grasp at a cover, but she was positive he knew what she was doing there. Between the way she had stared at that book in the library, and then showing up at a random antique dealer in the middle of Russia... Even someone with Malfoy's brain could figure it out.

Malfoy snorted, and his left eyebrow rose so high she was surprised it didn't morph half his face into one of a stroke victim. "I'm a pure-blood, Granger. I wasn't the source of the _pollution_. I could smell your dirty blood the moment I walked into the room."

"Yes, and I can smell your _bullshit_ from--"

"Furthermore - the game is over, Granger. Stop pretending that we both don't know _exactly_ your reason for being here. Purchasing an end table is the best you could come up with? And if you were - what, did you sell your soul for the money?"

"Malfoy," Hermione laughed, the sound colder than the February air blowing through them. "We both know that selling your soul is more your specialty."

His face turned into a storm, like a tornado that stripped off the fierce hardness to his features. His knuckles turned white in the fist around his wand, and his lips pulled back from his teeth. She had forgotten how intense the hatred could be in his eyes, and she smiled at him, a stretch of lips to mock.

"I--"

"I know why you're here as well, Malfoy. If it's out there, you won't find it before me."

"Begging is below me, but just know that I would be deeply satisfied if you were to bet your life on that statement."

"I'm not sure what you deserve, but satisfaction was never it."

Malfoy sneered at her, both of them taking a step forward. She thought he was going to continue walking towards her, but he turned with her instead, both of them Disapparating.

**February 24; 2:29am**

Hermione buried herself in books for days. Everything she could find on the plant, in all its different names, was devoured by her. She sought out every obscure reference and interviewed authors and researchers. She even tracked down the ancestor of a man mentioned in connection to the plant over eight hundred years ago. It was always the same information, and the level of passion and excitement for it was the only thing that varied - from the careless, to the life's ambition. Annabell grew more certain that their research was a waste of time beyond a thorough report, and Hermione grew more determined. She kept reminding herself of the vase and Malfoy's sneer, and that it allegedly _had_ _the power to heal people_.

She didn't really care about the other uses that had been mentioned for the plant. In fact, those uses were dangerous, at best, if the wrong people were able to harness them. But if it were true that combining the plant with the right spell, or ingredients, could turn the body back to where it was before disease - in essence, _curing_ people of disease - there was no limit to the amount of lives that could save. She imagined the world free of disease, and she dreamt about it too - of a billion saved lives, of how happy Lupin would have been, or her aunt. It would be the greatest discovery. It would save so many. Hermione wanted that as badly as she'd ever wanted anything.

She had to find the plant before anyone else. Not just because of how dangerous it could be in someone else's hands, but for people and health and long lives. If the person with the antiques had one or found out where they grew, she could only hope the worst they tried with it was to steal artifacts from the past and make money off them. She had to track this person down, and she had to find the plant.

**February 25; 10:01am**

"We do not have a Vietnamese collection, or any new collections from the Fifteenth Century."

"I have heard from highly respected dealers and sources that you do," Hermione insisted, and the young man gave her another annoyed look.

When she had decided to come back and try again, she had been very doubtful of her ability to succeed with the Black-Voids-for-Eyes man she had first encountered. She had been relieved to find the younger man behind the counter instead, but he was still proving difficult to get any information out of.

"It has all been sold," he replied, after a pause.

"Then can you tell me where it came from? So I can see if they have any more."

He stared at her for a long moment, his lips pursed and his thumb circling the knuckles of his other hand. "No, I can't. That's confidential."

"I'm an avid collector of antiques. If you tell me where that collection came from, I will buy all my future antiques from this shop."

"If you were an avid collector," he whispered, a patronizing smile quirking his lips, "you would not limit yourself to one dealer or shop."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to think of something else to say, and relocated her glare to work at a more pleasant expression. Her eyes fell on a movement by another display case, and the woman with the champagne jerked her head to the left. Hermione blinked and let her breath out in a rush, swinging curious eyes back to the man.

"Alright, fine. Thank you anyway. And please let me know if anything comes in." The man gave her a nod, and she let her glare fully rest on his insulting expression before she turned for the aisles.

The woman was in the fourth aisle she wandered down, glancing up at her as she adjusted something on the shelf. The woman looked away, over Hermione's shoulder, and began walking toward her. Hermione stood there, looking at the angle and the way the woman seemed content on ignoring her. She was just walking past her when her hand hit Hermione's, and there was a soft crinkling sound and hardness scraping her skin. Hermione's fingers closed around the square on instinct, the employee's heels clicking farther away behind her.

She waited until her quick steps led her outside and halfway down the block before she opened her palm, and unfolded the paper.

**February 27; 3;54pm**

_David Yendell_ , the paper had said. _David Yendell, Newton_. She had not found a single David or D. Yendell in any Newton registry - all thirty-five of them, in England alone. She had decided to go and investigate in the towns anyway, and had narrowed it down to those with only Newton as the full name (seventeen), and then into ones with magical communities (seven). None of the people in the villages had any idea who David Yendell was, and the one reclusive and strange man in Cambridgeshire had nearly hit her with the wide swings of his cane, the moment she stepped onto his porch.

Before attempting an investigation in the remaining Newtons, Hermione decided that a physical description and perhaps some more detail was needed before she did anything else. It was the smirk on the woman's face when she reentered the antique shop that blistered reality into Hermione's skull.

"I had thought you and the blond man were working together." The woman shrugged, and a faint blush crawled up her cheeks as she stared at the floor. "He's very persuasive. But now that he's convinced me to accept money, I'm sure just the weight of it could persuade me now for you, if he comes back."

Hermione had to put her wand away to stop the angry sparks of magic from escaping her blood. Three days she had wasted in her search, because of this woman. Not even _this woman_ , but _Malfoy_! Malfoy had _paid her off_ to _lie_ about the name and town, and Hermione had been _stupid enough to fall for it_! She should have expected something as underhanded from Malfoy. _Of course_ he would do something like this. If he were here, she would hex him into deformity, to the point that he would never want to step foot in public again.

"I'm not giving someone like you a single knut. If Malfoy comes back, you're going to give him fake information as well - and you're going to put on the show of your life to convince him. I don't care if you have to act like you're in love with him, but you'll make sure he believes it."

"Oh? I'm--"

"If you don't, I might have to report back to the Ministry of England that you lied to and conspired against a Ministry employee." Hermione drew out her identification, shoving it into the woman's line of sight. "And if _that_ information gets out, I'll know who was conspiring to sabotage an official investigation of England's Ministry of Magic. Won't I?"

Hermione shoved her Ministry card back into her pocket, and took three deep breaths to calm her anger. _Malfoy_. He was probably ten steps ahead of her now, and all she had was a pointless investigation, bags under her eyes, and an angry partner who kept asking where she went for three days. She wouldn't fall for this again. She would do everything she could to sabotage him too. She had been so _stupid_!

The woman brushed her dark hair out of her now-pale face and gave a solid nod. "I will point him in the wrong direction if he comes back. And I won't tell anyone...about this."

"Good. Now, tell me what you really know."

She shook her head quickly, waving her hands. "I know nothing, I swear."

Hermione stared at her for a moment and sniffed, storming back out of the shop.

**February 28; 11:38pm**

She stared down at the parchment, her eyes blurring for a moment, and then read it again.

_Muggle London, Library, Tuesday at Noon._ She rolled the vial in her palm, staring down at the mist of memories. The parchment was thick and heavy, but the words were thin and messy. As if the person had been in a rush at the moment they wrote it, or when they learned penmanship.

She hadn't recognized the owl, or the handwriting, and had thought it might be Annabell before dismissing it. She would have signed her name, and anyone who didn't either thought she would know who they were, didn't care if she knew, or didn't want anyone else to know. It was mysterious and made her ill at ease, but after checking twice, there were no curses or hexes on the parchment or vial.

She was betting it was from someone involved with Dominus Temporis, which left three possibilities in her mind. The man at the antique shop in England, the woman from the shop in Russia, or Malfoy. She didn't think the man in England would send her memories, and Malfoy wasn't likely to request meeting up with her. Unless it was something important, and he had sent memories to prove it to her. It still didn't make sense.

**March 1; 7:41am**

Hermione stared at Draco Malfoy's back for two seconds before rushing forward to keep up. She had been almost positive that the memories would have been from the woman in Russia, but she was even more cautious now that she knew they were from Malfoy. If this was some scheme of his, she would know it this time.

An arm flashed out from an alleyway and grabbed the blonde girl Malfoy seemed to be following. She was jerked off the street in a second, and Hermione almost walked into Malfoy's back at his sudden stop. She followed him to the side of the walkway, automatically dodging the people walking toward her, and stared at Malfoy as he pressed himself against the building next to the alley. It was completely unnatural for her to be _inside his memory_. It felt like she had been forced to swim through a liquid that no one could identify. It felt personal, and gross, and uncomfortable. Like sleeping in a stranger's bed and having them watch you the entire time.

Malfoy kept glancing at his watch, looking around himself impatiently. She didn't know if he was acting, or if he knew what was going on in the alley and was waiting for it to be over. She could hear a female voice yelling in Russian, and then another female voice yelling out before things went quiet. Hermione stared at Malfoy, watching the changes to his face. It was very odd to be standing in front of him, no disgust, anger, or hatred on his face. He was staring right back at her -- _through_ her - instead of expressing how much of a mar she was on the field of his vision. She almost didn't recognize the structure of his facial features. This whole thing was creeping her out.

Malfoy glanced at the same spot four times in less than twenty seconds, and Hermione looked on the fifth, spotting the two men walking slowly and whispering. She stepped closer to them, but they were speaking in Russian as well. She turned back toward the blond at the sudden yell from the alley. Malfoy fell forward into step just before Hermione could hear the sound of footsteps, and the girl emerged. The memory swirled before she could even make out the girl's face.

The busy street disappeared around her, colors spinning together and objects morphing as the light of day faded. Hermione closed her eyes, expecting to be pulled out from the Pensieve, but opened them again to a different setting.

It looked like a cabin, mostly empty except for the candle placed on a small table and the blinds over the windows. Faint light streamed in, picking up the specks of dust in the air and the warp of dirty floorboards. There was a boy, no older than sixteen, panting across from her. Malfoy's back was to her, and his shoulders were moving just enough for her to know that he was catching his breath as well. The boy wiped the sweat from his face, and fell back against the wall.

"Really, I'm telling the truth. I don't know anything. I get paid, I drop things off. That's all I know. I'm a runner."

"If you get paid," Malfoy drawled, but there was a strain through his need for air, "then you have a boss."

"I don't know him."

The blinds over the window separated between two blades, like a finger pulling them down and sliding slowly to the left. Malfoy's wand moved in a deliberate motion, and the boy pushed himself farther from the window, fear flashing across his face. "But you know it's a 'him'?"

Hermione was stuck between wanting the information, and being angry at Malfoy's attempt at getting it. The boy was obviously young and scared, and Malfoy was using it like a weapon, adding onto it. Malfoy loved to terrorize people. It probably made him feel powerful to have people fear him - it seemed that wasn't a lesson he had learned during the war. Though, she could remember Harry telling her about Voldemort forcing Malfoy to torture people, and the look on Malfoy's face when he did. But it still didn't stop him from exploiting fear to get what he wanted now. Not being able to torture people didn't make you a good person - it just meant you weren't absolutely evil. She couldn't imagine that being listed under 'good attributes'. _I can't torture people_. Well, congratulations, on that. Score one for your humanity.

"I just figured! Look, sometimes people give me things, pay me to bring it to someone else. That girl I gave the package to in Russia...I had another one, and brought it to an antique place--"

"What antique place?"

"I don't kn-- No, no, I mean it doesn't have a name! They wouldn't let me in. I went there, they wouldn't let me in, and I got a note on my door the next day, telling me to leave the package on the table and go somewhere else for an hour. That's all. That's it, really."

"You never saw anyone?"

"No."

"Why wouldn't they let you in?"

"I didn't have credentials."

"Credentials?" Malfoy waved his hand in the air impatiently, his voice clipped. "A vouch for my trustworthiness, or..."

_"_ _Spit it out_ _."_

"The Dark Mark," the boy breathed.

"Fucking shit," Malfoy muttered, his jaw clenching. "Fu-- Write down the address. Now. Hurry up."

Under Malfoy's heavy glare, the boy rushed forward toward the table, and the surroundings swirled again. Hermione found herself staggering into reality a moment later. She breathed out heavily, swiping her hair back from her face, and sending a look around the room. It was only used for Pensieves for Aurors and witnesses to fact check or confirm stories, and the room was usually empty.

Which was perfect, because she didn't need anyone to get too curious. She certainly didn't need anyone knowing that she was in contact with Draco Malfoy for one of her assignments. She still wasn't sure what he wanted from her or why he was showing her these things, but she was determined to find out. Storing the memories back in the vial, she left the room and headed for the library, needing a translation book before she could view them again.

**March 2; 11:50am**

Malfoy was already at the library. If Harry hadn't taken ten minutes to be convinced dinner plans were better than lunch for today, she would have gotten there before him, like she'd planned. He glanced up at her and rose an inch out of his seat as if to stand for the female, before he realized who the woman was and quickly sank back down again. Any sort of pure-blood chivalry died in the face of a Mudblood. He looked like a statue, he was so tense, but she imagined herself looking the same.

His mouth opened, and his eyes roamed the area over her shoulder like all the words he could say were there. "Granger."

"Malfoy."

She felt just as awkward as he looked, but she wasn't going to make this easy for him. After she had translated from Russian in the first memory, and done a little digging, she knew exactly why he had contacted her. She had contemplated what he was really asking of her, and her willingness to do it. It had been a long night of serious thinking before she had her conditions and resolve set. She was still wary of any tricks he might be planning, but as long as she was on the lookout for them and remained careful, she would get the information she needed.

"Let's get to the point, Granger. The less I have to endure your presence, the better." If that was how he treated the people he needed something from, she was surprised he got anything at all. "You translated the memory?"

"Obviously," she snapped, and he scowled. "You want the hair slide."

"We both want the hair slide, Granger. It's a means to our ends. You can get the hair slide, and I can get in through the door. We can only get the information if we combine the two. Or else I wouldn't bother being here."

"Neither would I, trust me." They both snorted, and then glared at one another. "I have conditions."

He leaned back in the chair, finally giving up the pretense of reading the book in front of him. "Make it quick."

She gave him an annoyed look and cautiously took the seat across from him. It was awkward to just sit at the same table as him, and she almost stood back up again. "I'm going in with you."

"Impossible."

"I don't think so, Malfoy. We'll figure out a way - there's no way I'm giving you the opportunity for another poor attempt at sabotage." He straightened up, his eyebrow raising, and she gave him an odd mix of a sneer and a smile. "If you think I'm naive enough to hand over the one thing you need, just so you can get the information and run off with it, then your stupidity truly knows no boundaries."

He pressed his lips together and his nostrils flared on a long inhale. He cocked his head, his eyes diverted toward the stacks, and his jaw worked. He was probably watching his plans go up in flames, and her look was smug when he turned his eyes back to hers.

"This is obviously a dark establishment." He spoke slowly, like it would take her a lot to understand it. She grew angrier with every additional second that ticked by as she tried to understand his point. There was a faint smirk on his mouth that let her know he was amused.

"I'll make sure they don't recognize me. I'll Polyjuice."

"Mm. Perhaps you can take a hair from Potter. I'm sure the reaction would be priceless - maybe they'll do an exchange."

"I would never put _my_ life on the line for you, or--" Hermione snapped, before realizing that his tone had been more sarcastic and mocking than serious. "I'll take care of it."

"Since you fucking that up would be putting my life on the line, I'm obviously not satisfied with that response, or willing to accept it. As disturbing as it will be, I'll secure the hair since I highly doubt you have access to any person they would accept seeing in such a place."

"Fine, but I brew the potion." She didn't need him trying to poison her, or something.

"Fine."

"The hair slide - what is so special about it?" She hadn't wanted to ask him, but she couldn't find it out for herself in the limited time she had.

"I don't know," he said carelessly, like it was so far from mattering, she could have just asked about a worm in China. "It's been in the Crabbe family for centuries - though, after the war, I suppose it belongs to the Ministry. There is old blood magic placed on it, but I don't know what for. All I know is that it's extremely valuable."

Hermione had an image of Malfoy on his hands and knees, gasping out Crabbe's name with his ash-coated hands curling into a grasp that had been too late. She had to stare blankly at him for a long moment, trying to adjust the images.

"The young girl in the alley...she yelled out that boy's name, right? And that's when he told you about this antique--"

"It was my memory, M-- Granger, I hardly need a recount."

She gave him a dirty look, knowing exactly what was going to come out of his mouth, and what would have come out if he didn't need her help with this. "The two men said that this dark antique shop wanted the hair slide. How do you know they are the same?"

"Both said the establishment was in Russia, which is also where all the antique business seems to be coming from, and both said it was an unnamed shop with leanings toward the Dark Arts. You're not very good at deducing things, are you?" Malfoy gave her a condescending look and turned another page in the book, his eyes skimming around them for anyone coming too close.

"Almost as good as you are at being an utter prat, actually, which is--" "Hopefully better at it than your insults, for the sake of this plan. Shit, were you really _the brains_ behind Potter's little adventures at Hogwarts? I'm sur--"

"Jealous, Malfoy? God knows I've seen enough of your plans put into action to fully grasp the scope of your--"

"That emotion to me is as foreign as a hairbrush is to you. I--"

"Foreign like the countries your brain must have left you for. If I don't have any brains for planning, Malfoy, I wonder why it is that you've actually taken ideas from me before. Where would that leave you in the order of things?"

His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes slowly turned toward her from the annoyed look sent their way by the girl walking past. He stared at Hermione until she had to actively stop herself from shifting awkwardly, and then he cocked his head, biting his lips for a moment.

"I bet that just tears you up inside, Granger," he whispered, his tone wondering but his look malicious. "The things I've used your ideas for."

Hermione pulled back, her chair scraping against the floor. A triumphant gleam flashed across the grey of his eyes, as if her leaving had been his goal the entire time. "I wasn't the one who tried to kill him. I wasn't the one who kept failing. How does that make you feel, Malfoy? I bet that just tears--"

"That your ideas failed, and mine worked?" He shrugged a shoulder. "Unsurprised."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head, and leaned forward with a vindictive look twisting her face. "I mean--"

"Enough," he hissed.

"Can't have it thrown back in your face? Are you--" "You don't--"

"Excuse me, but this is a library, and I'm trying to study. If you could take this conversation outside, or hold it down, I would really appreciate it." The girl hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and stretched her lips at them.

Malfoy sneered, his eyes tracking down from her hair to her shoes, and obviously finding her lacking. "Sod. Off."

"I'm sorry," Hermione cut in, before the girl could respond to Malfoy's rudeness.

"We'll keep it down."

"Thank you," the girl muttered, glaring at the blond, and moved to a table farther away.

"Just because they're Muggles, does not mean--" Hermione started, and Malfoy glowered at the tabletop, lifting two fingers to his temple.

"Let's just keep this at basics, Granger, before your voice tortures me into insanity. You bring the Polyjuice and the hair slide, and I'll--"

"I'm not bringing the actual hair slide." Malfoy slowly lifted his eyes to hers when she said this, his mouth clicking shut, and his fingers stopping in their attempt to rub the skin off his temple. "I'll make a replica."

"Are you insane or just--"  
"They won't know the difference." "This isn't a group of Huffle--"

"They won't know. I'm not stealing the hair slide from the Ministry. It's illegal, and while I'm not surprised at all about how much that _doesn't_ mean to you, I'm not breaking any laws. And if this hair slide is that valuable and does have some sort of blood magic on it, I don't trust you to get near it. I'll put enchantments on it to fool them into thinking it has blood magic on it. They don't know what sort of magical properties are in it, so that doesn't matter. They--"

"I don't think I'm willing to bet that much on your intelligence, which--"

"This is it, Malfoy. I'm making a replica, or nothing at all." She was adamant, jabbing her finger into the table, and Malfoy swore rather loudly. "The enchantments--"

"They'll test it before they give us the money and information--"

"I'll make sure it will take them awhile before they realize it was just enchantments. By the time they figure it out, we'll be long gone. Their initial testing will show them enough to think it's a real one. I've already looked up the proced--"

"If we give them a fake one, that will come back on _me_ and--"

"Oh, please. If you're really that worried about your...reputation," she said this like she highly doubted he had much of one to begin with, "then you can tell them that you were told it was the one, and then you tested it and it showed that it had blood magic within it. Their initial testing would have proved the same. And we should just ask for the information - not money as well."

"No, we will ask for money as well. The hair slide is extremely valuable, or did you not catch that when I said it before? Trading it for just the information will prove how valuable the information is, and it would appear suspicious to--"

"It might be asking too much. You could be overestimating--"

"I'm not," he bit, and his fingers started at his temple again. "We'll accept the money, and when they find out it's a fake, I'll give them the money back as well. You are the most infuriating, annoying, and--"

"Oh, yes, it's such a _pleasure_ to have to know you."

He stood, scowling at her, and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. "Just remember that you aren't doing me any favors - you need me for this as well. And make sure not to tell anyone that I've been forced to associate myself with you in any regard."

Hermione huffed a laugh. "I would be the one to suffer from that, if I did."

"Suffer? In that case, feel free to do so."

"Your Death Eater mentality - how unfortunate you never got to charm the Azkaban guards with that."

He sneered at her, shoving the book so hard across the table that it smacked off her fingers. "Friday, noon. We'll meet here so I can check your _replica_ , and then we'll Apparate to the place. It's been grueling, Granger."

She glared at him as he sauntered away, and then looked down at the book and the picture of a hair slide that sparkled back up at her.


	3. Part Three

**March 3; 3:02pm**

Hermione slid Charmfiguration: A Guide of Object Manipulation under her pillow before running for the door. There was another soft knock just before she pulled the door open and gave Annabell a smile.

"Come on in," Hermione greeted, stepping to the side and swinging the door with her.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to get something for my mother before I came."

"No problem. Do you want a drink?" Hermione had been completely convinced thirty seconds ago that Annabell's lateness could literally mean the end of the world, but now that she was finally here, it seemed a bit of an overreaction.

"Not right now, thank you."

Annabell hovered in the strange spot that made up the space by the front door, the kitchen island, and the start of the living room. Hermione liked to call it her entry instead of her living room which made her flat sound a lot more grand than it was _._ _Oh, should I take my shoes off in the hall or the_ _foyer_ _?_ Don't want to dirty the sitting room, Ron would grin, and Hermione would shoot him death looks for a good ten seconds.

"Have a seat, wherever." Hermione gestured toward the couch and rocking chair. Annabell looked like she had just entered a secret world of polar bear built houses, so Hermione moved first with an awkward laugh.

"I, uh...well, I'm not sure there is much to discuss."

"Oh." Hermione halted, and turned back again.

Annabell nodded, pushing her glasses up, and dug around in her pocket. "I, uh...here, I made you a copy of the rumor list. There are some people and locations... Something about a Seer, a lake. The birthplace of Flora, as well, though it doesn't say where. I..."

Hermione took the wrinkled parchment from her and absently ran it between two fingers to smooth it out. She stopped at the redness on Annabell's face and quickly opened the paper. "Well... We can start by seeing if any of the names are from any of the locations. Start with the most likely places..."

"Sure, yes. I'll do that."

"Great." Hermione had no idea what else to say, and instead studied the list like she were retaking the N.E.W.T.s. She closed her mouth and blew air into her cheeks, giving her partner a smile. Annabell's stare switched between her and her striped socks. "Uh, I'll find the information on Flora and arrange Portkeys to the locations. We'll have to go to all of them, but we'll start with the Flora location and any places that might coincide with names on the list."

"That will be a good start," Annabell agreed, fastening a button on her robe and clearing her throat.

"We can meet up here again...Saturday." Hermione winced, knowing that if she got the information she wanted on Friday, she would not be wanting to sit around the next day.

"Okay. Eight?"

"Perfect." Sort of.

**March 5; 12:15am**

She got there before him. He had taken twenty minutes in the bathroom checking the hair slide, while she held his wand in case he got any ideas. But she knew it was solid work. She had researched until she found just the right spells and charms, and had practiced for hours before she went into the evidence room marked 'C5' at the Ministry. The hardest part had been to act confident enough to get past the doubtful guard in the evidence corridor when she told them she needed to look at something for an assignment. It was _true_ , just not completely, and she wasn't sure how much the Ministry would approve of her approach. She had gotten the Polyjuice Potion after dropping into the Auror wing of the department with the excuse of visiting Harry. Her best friend was far too paranoid and observant not to notice she was up to something, and she would be surprised if he didn't drop in to visit her today.

Malfoy had handed her a vial with a single hair in it, and a black bag after giving a rather foul look to her jeans and jumper. Once she had secured herself in the bathroom stall, she had stared at that long strand of platinum blond for at least a full minute before finally drinking the potion. It took another five minutes to be thankful she was dressing the only female Malfoy, and then to stare at herself in the mirror. It was incredibly unsettling to move in the body of Narcissa Malfoy. To stare into her eyes, smile with her mouth, and brush platinum hair from delicate features with perfectly manicured hands. It was strange and disturbing, but it still did not top being Bellatrix Lestrange.

Malfoy appeared as if someone took on his mother's form every day. With the way he looked at her, she almost thought she had grabbed a joke potion and that she could see herself as it, but no one else could. "Walk straighter."

"If I walk any straighter, I'll fall backwards," Hermione snapped, voice wavering in the beginning as she heard Narcissa's voice with her words.

"Pull your shoulders back a little, then... My mother doesn't walk like a whore, Gran--"

"Shut _up_ ," she hissed, walking faster to pass him.

He grabbed her elbow, his fingers squeezing like a clamp as he jerked her back.

"Do not walk ahead of me."

Hermione remembered reading about pure-blood wives always remaining a step behind their husband as a sign of respect, but she had never read anything about their sons. She tried to yank her arm from his grasp, but it was a vice. "You're not her husband. What exactly do you _do_ with--"

"I would _highly_ suggest you not finish that sentence," he warned her, his voice low and hissing. It reminded her of a snake, which was pretty fitting.

"What are you going to do? And if you don't let go of me this second--"

"What?"

It was a challenge, she figured, and the hitch of his eyebrow only proved it. Slamming her foot down on top of his, she pushed all of her weight on it as she took her step past him, smirking at his grunt. She continued towards the door, but the hand that had slackened clamped down again. She was angry at the mewl of pain that escaped her throat as he attempted to crush the bone. Her elbow was pressed into his stomach as he leaned down, close enough for her to feel the ghost of breath against her ear.

"You've no idea how lucky you are we're in the Muggle world right now."

Hermione barked a laugh and clamped her own fingers into his wrist to try to release his grasp. It worked like her fingers were burning coals, and the second her skin touched his, he jerked away from her. "I'm the lucky one? You--"

"No matter what sick and disgusting thing you were about to insinuate earlier - I am her son, but I am a man who has reached the age of majority. You can walk beside me, but you do _not_ walk ahead of me. Not for a second. Do you understand?"

She stepped away from him and the weird heat of his body, finding it strange enough to be in his mother's body, let alone having him stand close to her. His body heat freaked her out - it was too normal, or human, or close. He straightened up, sending a quick look around them at the busy library. Did he really think that sort of intimidation worked? On _her_? She narrowed her eyes at him and raised her chin, which she guessed was likely a normal expression for the woman anyway.

"Please. Ladies first," Hermione muttered, sweeping her arm out for him to begin walking.

He scowled at her, refused to move for at least five seconds, and finally started walking. She fell in step with him, walking twice as fast to keep up with his long strides. She certainly wasn't walking _behind him_ , though. He opened the door, and took half of a step to the side as if to hold it open for her, before correcting himself. Seeing his mother's reflection in the door had probably tricked his manners for a moment, before he remembered it was _her_ , the woman whose arm he just tried to massacre.

"We'll go into the first alley."

"Did you get a Portkey?"

His pace slowed just a fraction, which was the only thing to give him away. "No." "I haven't been there before - I can't Apparate. You had the address--"

"We'll Side-Along."

"Ha! Wha-- Ha! There is _no way_ I'm going to--"

"You don't have a choice."

"Oh, yes, I do. We can postpone until--"

"The potion wears off in an hour. I don't want to go through this shit again. As much as I would love to leave your body parts from here to Russia, I would rather not see the inside of Azkaban again. Get over yourself."

"Coming from _you_ \--"

"Stop walking like a fucking Hippogriff."

"I'm walking perfectly fine!"

"For a Hippogriff," he shot back, turning into the alley. "You're not speaking properly either. Just... This was a bad idea. Even with her face, you've still got m--"

"I know what I'm doing. They'll buy it."

"Yeah?" Like he would sooner believe she was sad Harry won the war.

"Yes. It's nothing I haven't done before."

"I doubt that," he snapped, checking his watch, and looking up startled when she laughed. "What, you, Potter, and Weasley got bored one night and excha--"

" _Actually_ ," she spat, pulling to a stop when he did, "I changed into an employee to break into the Ministry when it was run by _your lot_ , and had to sit with Umbr-- And then as your good ol' Auntie Bellatrix to get into Gringotts. Thankfully I had a hair from her after she tortured me - but you knew that part."

He actually paled. His eyes were widened just a fraction when they met hers for a second before disappearing over her head. He shifted on his feet, and his hands rose to ease imaginary wrinkles from his coat. She expected animosity, something biting and cruel. She didn't expect him to avoid her eyes. She stared at him in confusion, and he cleared his throat.

"Just don't fuck it up, Granger." He held out his arm, looking like the movement left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was his left one, she noticed - his Marked arm. She pulled her wand out of her sleeve and gripped it tightly. She had seen his memories and didn't think he was leading her into some trap. If he tried anything stupid, though, she would make him dearly regret it.

"If I so much as end up with a missing eyebrow, I'm going to eliminate any hope you may have of continuing the Malfoy line."

"We already covered this, s--" Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by her hand touching his arm, and he looked like the bad taste was back.

She opened her mouth to say something scathing and dug her fingers a little too hard into the thickness of his coat, but then they were gone. Hermione closed her eyes, counting past the feeling, and gasped in a breath when it was gone. Malfoy moved his arm away from her before she could even open her eyes.

The street was dark and shadowed, even at 3 o'clock, and looked like the Russian version of Knockturn Alley. Prostitutes catcalled from the shadows of buildings, and drunk men staggered across the cobblestone as they dug in their pockets. A man was smoking something that created purple smoke, and it smelt rancid as they walked by it. Hermione tucked her wand back up the sleeve of the robe Malfoy had given her, trying her best to look like she owned the entire street.

"Try not to talk," Malfoy muttered, leading them toward a black door, the number eight in dark blue at the top corner.

Hermione tried not to look at the people scattered about the pavement, because she didn't think Narcissa would be looking around in curiosity. From the side glances she managed to get in though, she was surprised to find glares and lips pulled in disgust. Everyone from the homeless man to the business man were making wide spaces between themselves and the Malfoys. If they knew the family, shouldn't it be acceptable to find them on a street mostly ruled by Dark Arts? Hermione felt like she were on display, and she had to look down at her hands to make sure she hadn't changed back.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice at all, his gait the same and a small arch to his left eyebrow to prove his arrogance. It wasn't until he turned that she noticed his knuckles were white at the sleeve of his robe, and his mouth turned into a hard line for just a second when he looked at her. He swung the black door open and stepped aside, and she quickly entered in an attempt to ease her apprehension. She didn't like having her back to those people, and as nervous as places like this made her, the looks she received made it frightening. She didn't trust Malfoy at all, and combined with these sort of people, she felt like she had been stranded in a nest of Death Eaters. You knew the situation could be disastrous when the closest person you had to trust was _Draco Malfoy_. She would rather throw rocks at house-elves.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself what this was for. A man with a long, drooping face was placing a jewelry box onto the top of a table. Static blue lines were zapping around his hands until he pulled them away from the box, muttering something under his breath. Hermione head jerked toward Malfoy when he said something in Russian. The man replied, his eyes appraising them like they were a new artifact for his shop. She was wondering if Malfoy would have to show his Mark or something, but the man seemed to recognize him. She couldn't be less surprised. Malfoy said something again, and the man turned his eyes toward Hermione and gave a nod. She nodded back, completely confused, and then turned narrowed eyes towards Malfoy.

If he thought for a second that he was going to do this in Russian, she would not hesitate to pluck his hair out. Individually, with her tweezers, while rubbing Muggle-born germs all over his bald head. The man began walking towards a long counter at the side of the store, and Malfoy had to grab her arm to keep her from walking ahead of him. She rolled her eyes and was incredibly tempted to trip him, but she could wait until later.

The man walked behind the counter, and Malfoy seemed to catch the threat of her thoughts and casted a Translation charm on himself. Hermione and the man did the same, and she wasn't sure if his brown eyes were brighter in the new lighting or from whatever Malfoy had said to him.

"Go on and show him, Mother," Malfoy told her, and it took her a second to realize he was talking to her. _That_ brought an entirely new level of strangeness to this whole situation.

She pulled the small wooden box from her pocket and set it on the counter. The man was frowning as he studied the etches in the wood, but the excitement returned when she began to open it. The hair slide sat on black velvet inside, and the diamond flowers and swirling crystal vines glimmered in the light. It really was a beautiful piece of jewelry, even as a fake. Hermione turned it toward the man  
slowly, as Malfoy glanced back over their shoulders.

The man's eyes grew impossibly wide. He stared at it for several seconds before raising his wand. Hermione drew hers halfway out of her sleeve before his wand settled above her head, and he rushed out Locking spells on the door. His eyes settled back onto the hair slide in a second, and he thankfully missed her reaction.

His hand had a slight tremble when his fingers stretched out toward the box, and Hermione didn't know if it was his age or his excitement. Malfoy reached over, tucking his finger into the ridge of the top, and pulled it back.

"I trust you recognize it."

"Absolutely. I'm..." The man seemed to realize where he was, and in what company, and his face became blank of expression. "I'm interested in this piece, Mister Malfoy. I will have to test it, to verify."

"Of course. There are other shops who wish to see it today, however, and business to attend to. I can only give you a quarter hour. If that is not sufficient--"

"Oh, yes, that's fine. Someone brought in a rather crude copy two weeks ago. It took only a minute to know."

Hermione shot Malfoy a glance to find him sending her a quick glare. Like it would be all her fault if he found out it was a replica. There was no way she would have stolen the actual one from the Ministry, just to sell it to some Dark Arts store. The copy was practically flawless, and Malfoy hadn't said a word when he emerged with it from the bathroom. It wouldn't hold up under extensive testing, but fifteen minutes wouldn't allow the man that much.

Hermione waited impatiently as the man threw countless spells at the hair slide, trying to stop herself from shifting with nerves and her desire to get out of there as soon as possible. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest as she watched the man's every move, waiting for any flinch that would tell her he figured it out. If it hadn't been for his eyes moving, she would have thought someone had cursed Malfoy into stillness. Dark figures moved past the windows, outlined by the faint light outside, but it was silent within the shop. She repeatedly checked her watch, counting how long he had been working on the hair slide, and how long since she had drank the potion. Malfoy began to tap his finger against the counter - it was silent, but still timed to second intervals, and she wanted to slam the heel of her palm down onto it.

"Are you finished?" It had only been eleven minutes when Malfoy asked.

The man looked up, a faint redness in his cheeks. "Yes, I believe so. It is a very fine--"

"This is what I'm requesting. There are no negotiations." Malfoy slid a piece of parchment across the counter, and Hermione gave him a sharp look. They didn't exactly have room to demand things - if whatever Malfoy requested was too high, or--

Something clinked against the counter, and Hermione watched a thin vial of liquid roll into the finger the man had pressed onto the parchment. Brown eyes narrowed for an instant, and then his eyebrows rose on a high forehead. "Very well. I find these terms acceptable. If you will hold, for just a moment."

The man turned, and they watched him walk across the shop and disappear behind a door. "Veritaserum?" she hissed, and Malfoy looked bored when he turned his head toward her. "That's--"

"Intelligent? I know. Do you really think he would give us the truth without it?"

"If he didn't, he would know that we would come back here and--"

"Don't be nave. It's annoying," he snapped, and her indignant reply was cut off by the door opening.

The man walked back toward them, and set a large money bag in front of Malfoy. It clunked heavily against the counter, and Hermione wondered just how much he had asked for. Not that it mattered anyway, since it would be going back to the man once he figured out the truth.

"Straight from the vial," Malfoy demanded, glancing at the man's teacup.

He hesitated, for just a second, but it was enough to curl a malicious and knowing smirk on Malfoy's face. The blond opened the bag and peered in at its contents before pulling the drawstring to close it. He casted a Silencing spell and a Feather charm on it before dropping it into his pocket.

"Very well," the man whispered, popping the cork off the vial, and took a sip.

Hermione waited for a moment, dropping her wand into her palm. All was fair in war. "What is all you know about the Vietnamese antique collection from the Fifteenth Century?"

Hermione turned her wand toward Malfoy, concentrating intensely to cast it silently before the man could begin talking. _Confundo_ , Hermione thought, swirling her wand, and forgot what she was doing a second later.

She blinked at the man and his drooping face. His eyes reminded her of the old bloodhound dogs, with the skin sagging so much that the eyes might just fall out at any second. She was supposed to be concentrating on the words he was speaking right now and not slouching like she was, but she didn't know why it was important. Where was she again? And why had she bought something so expensive? This robe was definitely out of her price range, and why in all the world was she standing next to Malfoy? Something about the hair slide. Or was it a hair comb? What she really needed right now was to go home. She didn't know why she needed to go home so badly, but she really needed to leave.

The man was holding out a piece of parchment, and Malfoy was the first to take it. She lifted her hand to her head and shook it, before turning for the front door. No, that was an aisle, the counter again, and...there it was. She walked out of the shop, and the bloodhound man started unlocking the door. Why had he locked it? She pulled the door open, and had to dig her feet in to get the door to obey, though she could have sworn Malfoy had opened it like it was as light as cardboard earlier.

She didn't know which direction to go, so she turned randomly, a headache roaring up between her temples. People were staring at her, and Malfoy was following her, and she didn't know why she thought it was a problem that she was walking ahead of him. Oh yeah, she was supposed to be acting like Narcissa, so she had to stay... The hair slide, and the shop, and...

Hermione whirled around, finding Malfoy frozen two steps away. The parchment was clutched in his hand, and... Had her spell backfired, or had he cast the charm on her as well? There was no way hers would have backfired. _That_ _sneaky little ferret_! Now they had both completely missed whatever the man had said, and the only thing they got out of it was confusion and...

Hermione's eyes widened, and she took two leaps forward just as Malfoy was crumpling the parchment into his fist. His arm shot down toward his pocket, but she launched herself forward, digging her fingers into his wrist and grabbing the note with her other hand. He tried to jerk his arm away from her and turn his body, but she followed, stomping on his foot and slamming her shoulder into his chest.

"Give...me..."

"Fucking... _animal_..."

The parchment ripped between their grasps as Malfoy shoved a palm into her shoulder. She tripped over her feet, landing on her bum with half the note between her fingers. She launched herself to her feet as Malfoy took a step toward her, and shoved the parchment deep into her pocket. They drew their wands at the same time, both of their faces turned fierce.

"I knew you would try some sort of trick!"

"Oh, as much as you knew you would be?" Malfoy barked.

"Consider this the last time I ever lower myself to work with you!"

" _Lower yourself_? I'll be washing your conniving, hypocritical _dirt_ from--" Malfoy cut off, glancing to his right.

Hermione glanced as well, not wanting to look away from Malfoy's wand for too long, and had to take a second glance. Their argument had brought a lot of attention to themselves, and she realized that she was still under Polyjuice and looked close to murdering her son. Not only that, but the man inside the antique shop was bound to recognize the replica for what it was any minute now. She met Malfoy's eyes with an angry fire just as bright, and they both Disapparated without another word.

**March 6; 8:06am**

Hermione squinted her eye at the peephole of her door and barely restrained the groan that bubbled up her throat. She closed her eyes, resting her head against the wood, and took a deep breath, before taking down the locks and enchantments.

Annabell gave her a perplexed look once she threw open the door. "Did I wake you?"

"My alarm didn't go off," Hermione lied, ushering her partner in, and closing the door behind her. "I'm going to change. I'll be right back."

"Do you want me to come back later?"

"Absolutely not. Just give me a couple minutes, and then we can discuss our findings. Sit down, make yourself at home."

Hermione stumbled her way back toward her bedroom, rubbing her hands over her face. She had been up until two hours ago, buried in books and a mess of parchment. The wall by her desk was covered in Post-it notes, and she had copied the rumors down in bold black marker on a big board above her desk. She looked like she had gone insane last night with her mad scribbling all over the place, and books lying open all over her floor. She was careful not to step on them on her way toward the dresser.

The half of parchment she had won - and she really did consider it a win, since she'd had to _battle_ him for the thing - had seemed to be the better half. While she only got a bey for what she assumed was a name, she managed to get 'l _zano, Italy_ for the place. She had found five places in Italy that ended with _lzano_ , but it was far better than the letter or two that Malfoy was working with. She was pretty sure that the location was Bolzano, Italy - it was the biggest city of the _lzano_ _s_ , and whoever _bey_ was, they would probably want the benefits a city has in being able to disappear. People noticed your existence a lot less than in a small town, and after all this work, she was pretty sure Bey didn't want to be easily found. If this was right, then the only letters Malfoy had on his half was Bo. Just in case he decided to contact her for some mutually beneficial crap again, she was fully prepared to convince him her parchment said _risoglebsk, Russia_ and send him on his way. Even if he didn't give her the real name on his parchment, he might believe her, and waste time in Russia while she was off being miles ahead of him.

She had expected him to try something on their little mission, but she had been hoping she would get to him first. It had been the perfect moment and she had been planning it out since she first agreed to the whole thing. Nothing illegal, but just enough to get what she needed without him getting it too. She had figured that he couldn't really do much until after they got the information, and if he didn't try anything at all, it was a bit of revenge for what he pulled with that woman. She hardly cared if she tried to sabotage Malfoy. He didn't deserve her assistance or something as incredible as _guilt_. Not after everything he'd done and everything he tried to do. Not when the repercussions of _him_ finding _this_ plant were so great.

_If it exists, of course_ _,_ she reminded herself.

She pulled off her oversize T-shirt and shoved her pajama shorts to the floor. Jeans, bra, and shirt, and she was back out in the living room again. Not much could be said for getting dressed in the dark, but she didn't think Annabell appreciated her paint-stained jeans, or that her shirt was on inside-out. Hermione tried to ignore this, reaching down for the Styrofoam cup with the teabag waving from it and thanking her. She tried to give a nonchalant look around the living room, making sure there wasn't anything out that Annabell might question. Hermione didn't want her to know she had been doing half of the investigation on her own and keeping it from her. Some things, like working with Malfoy, were better left unknown. She was also afraid that if they got too close to finding out if it was real, her partner would tell the Department heads, and the case would be given to someone with more experience. Hermione didn't trust anyone else to do the job she knew she could do.

"I'm sorry for waking you, but this was our planned time."

"No, I know. I was up late. I think I forgot to set my alarm." She had been so tired by the time she crawled into bed, she had only been thinking of things like soft blankets and fluffy pillows.

"I see. Did you find out where Flora was from?"

"It's hard to pinpoint an exact location, but I believe Sabina, or mo--"

"She was a Goddess of the Sabine, so that makes sense. Though, you know, there are arguments that the Sabine were originally Greek, or that some--"

"Yes, but Flora is considered a Roman Goddess. The Sabine were mostly settled in the modern region of Lazio, near Rieti. I've secured a Portkey to Rieti, and also to Norcia, the second likeliest place, which was originally inhabited by the Sabine."

Annabell's hand flew as she wrote what Hermione said word-for-word. "There was only one name and place that matched up - Laila Kristoffersen, in Haslev...Zealand, Denmark. The town is completely Muggle."

"So we'll start in Haslev, and then we'll go to Rieti, then Norcia."

"You want to go to Rieti and Norcia before anything else?"

"Well..." Hermione gave her a confused look. "Haslev, and then those two."

"I thought it would be more intelligent to find where the people are first, and then go there. People can move, but these other places aren't going anywhere."

Hermione almost disagreed based on the more intelligent comment alone. "If these people are involved, it isn't likely that we will find them anywhere publicly known anyway. But if you want to try that first, then sure."

Hermione shuffled some loose papers together in the silence that followed. She could hear Annabell's nails scraping against Styrofoam, and it was giving her a headache. She'd just woken up after only two hours of sleep - Hermione wasn't in the greatest of moods.

"Do you want to go now? To Haslev."

"Now?" she squeaked, surprised and just a little appalled. "I don't have anything else planned for the day, so--"

"Oh. I, actually, I have a meeting. With my...Healer. Just a routine checkup, really. Tomorrow would be better." Hermione tried to slow the rapid blinking her eyelids liked to throw themselves into whenever she was lying and grasping at anything that could work.

"All right. I'll look up the locations for some of these names today, then. Tomorrow at...nine?" A whole extra hour in her attempt to never see Hermione in her pajamas again.

"Nine... Yeah, that's fine."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione gave a sour look to a smudge of red paint by her kneecap. She wasn't sure what kind of tone Annabell had in her voice, but she knew it wasn't one she liked. "Yes."

**4:43pm**

When Hermione arrived at Bolzano, she did the only logical thing she could - went to the antique shops. The only things that looked new in any of them were items from fifty years ago, a baby an owner was holding, and the sheer size and perkiness of one woman's breasts, which Hermione had some serious questions about. When the antique places didn't turn up anything, she visited monuments, castles, and churches. She talked to locals, got yelled at by a tourist, and had no idea what she was looking for.

It wasn't until she started talking to a woman at a boutique that she finally got somewhere with her question about anything interesting happening in the city. The woman had whispered the directions to an Asther _bey_ 's home over a rack of fur coats, and Hermione had only gotten lost twice before she found the place. She had been standing outside, knocking on the door to the tiny house, for five minutes now with no answer.

She stared at the brass door handle and grasped it, feeling it give with the turn of her palm. She pushed it open a fraction and let go of the knob, the door falling open on its own. She was caught between slamming it shut and standing there like an idiot, until she saw the inside of the place.

"Hello?" she called, looking at the cardboard box half-filled with fabric and candles. "Astherbey?"

She wasn't sure if she should just leave and come back later, or risk entering. Astherbey would probably jump out from around some corner and try to attack her, or call the police and have her arrested for trespassing. Hermione had a very bad feeling, which was only aided by the box and a few quills and hair bands scattered on the floor.

"Hello? Are you okay?" She felt stupid for asking this to no one, but did anyway, in case anyone was inside. She wanted them to assume she was about to step inside to check on their safety and not to raid their home.

She drew her wand and stepped over the threshold, the scents of rosemary and jasmine floating out to greet her. Her eyes scanned the darkening entryway quickly, and it was on her third step inside that she caught the flash of white. Her head snapped in that direction, and her mouth dropped.

_Girl: I will always see you coming, so you should stop wasting your time now_ _._

Hermione reached out and grabbed the note, pulling it off the wall. The tack fell to the floor, skittering to a halt at one stranded high heel. She read it again, three times, and then her eyes glazed as she remembered the rumor list - the Seer, it had said. The woman at the boutique had said Astherbey was charging an obscene amount of money for predictions that always came true.

The antique trail had led her here. Which meant that Astherbey was using the plant to see the future, but also to travel in time. Unless the person was a Seer, who had discovered something that could take them back in time farther than a Timeturner would allow. That could have spurred on all the rumors about the plant. It seemed that Astherbey wasn't using it for anything other than wealth, but she couldn't be sure. The one thing that infuriated Hermione more than the note, was the fact that she couldn't know. If Astherbey was going back in time and changing things, then Hermione couldn't possibly _know_ what they were, or if it was going on at all. She _had_ to find this person. Even if it was something else and not the plant, she _needed_ to find out.

She searched the house and found nothing of importance.

**March 7; 9:03am**

Hermione was pacing her front door when Annabell gave a hesitant knock. She opened it with a muttered greeting and grabbed her coat, not bothering to look until someone cleared their throat in a very un-Annabell way. Hermione snapped her head toward the male sound, and found Harry grinning back at her, and a rather bashful and red-looking Annabell.

"Harry... It's Sunday, shouldn't you be having a lie-in right now?"

His grin fell and he glared at her, sliding past the rude shoulder she had angled in front of the opening to her flat. "You couldn't go to lunch, so you said dinner. You couldn't go to dinner, so you said breakfast. I dragged myself out of bed at nine on a Sunday for it, even. I thought you would be proud of this morning maturity, and instead I get a _what are you doing here_?"

Hermione smacked her forehead. "I thought it was tomorrow."

"Right, because I'm usually not working at nine on a Monday," Harry muttered, sarcasm far too heavy for such an early hour.

It wasn't even that early, but she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. After the edge of her exhaustion had been taken off, her brain had overpowered her need for sleep. She kept dreaming of a big, red monster eating clocks and...asparagus, whatever that was doing in there. When she wasn't dreaming, she was thinking, and planning, and getting frustrated at her lack of knowledge.

"Just admit it - you forgot."

Hermione sighed, plopping down next to him on the couch. "I'm sorry, Ha--"

"What is it? Your assignment? You always get like this when you become obsessed over something, like O.W.L.s or--"

"You sound like Ron now. I'm not obsessed, I'm just dedicated to my work." "Right. What is it?"  
"I can't say."  
"We work in the same department. Maybe I can hel--"

"No, no. It's nothing major, it's--"

"Should I go?" Hermione had actually forgotten that Annabell had been standing there.

Harry looked at her, his eyebrows raised with just a slight narrowing to his eyes. She shoved him in his shoulder and sighed, pushing herself off the couch. "Let's go. Annabell, do you want to come to breakfast with us?"

"Oh, er... I already ate."

"Can you meet me back here in two hours?" Harry seemed a little more pleased now that she wasn't going to rush them.

"Yes, I can do that. Two hours." Annabell turned and rushed on before them.

Harry threw his arm around her shoulders as they listened to her shoes clicking down the staircase. "Your partner?"

Hermione sighed.

**1:23pm**

Hermione was getting very sick of this, and she was pretty sure it was just the beginning. She knocked the side of her fist into the top of the sign, and Annabell knocked on the door again. "I don't think she's living here anymore."

"No, probably not. The lawn looks like it's been abandoned," Hermione had seen a lot worse from homes where people definitely lived, "and there's a sign for it to be sold."

Hermione was contemplating Annabell's reaction to any suggestion that they try to peek inside, when a whistle cut off any train of thought. They both looked towards the house next to them and the man standing on the porch.

"I'm sorry, what?" Annabell asked, and he paused at the English. Hermione knew what he meant the moment he lowered his fingers from his forehead and touched his chest.

"Thank you," Hermione waved and nodded, turning to leave. "She's dead."

"That's sad. But...if she had the Dominus Temporis, she wouldn't be dead. So..." Annabell trailed off, and Hermione could heard the fabric of her coat as she shrugged.

"Unless there's a certain way you have to use it or combine those magical properties with something else for immortality. If she didn't know what that was... Or she did, but someone killed her for it." Hermione wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, tucking the ends into her coat, and shoved her hands into her pockets.

Annabell gave her a look of soft amusement, pushing her glasses up as they turned onto the street. They would Apparate to the library when they passed all the shifting curtains, and try to find locations for any of the names. Tomorrow, they should go to a Muggle one, and see what they could find in any newspaper archives.

"Right. At least we just have to investigate the rest of the rumors, and then we'll be done. Two down."

"Right," Hermione muttered, glancing back at the house. Death was also a great way to keep hidden without people asking questions.


	4. Part Four

**March 8; 12:21pm**

"Harry, if you didn't get it out of me yesterday morning, you're not going to get it out of me today."

"We aren't supposed to keep secrets," Ron somehow got out around a chunk of chicken in his mouth.

"It's not a _secret_. It's an assign--"

"If it wasn't a secret, then you could tell us," Harry argued.

"A _secret assignment_. What, are you...uh...Harry?" Ron waved his hand in the air and took a gulp of his butterbeer.

"James Bond."

"James Bond, right."

Hermione rolled her eyes and forked another bite of her fish. "It's not that big of a deal. I just have to investigate something, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"Huh. Supposed to and allowed to are two different things."

"That's drawing a thin line, Ron." Hermione, unlike Ron, waited until she swallowed before saying this.

"I'm an Auror. I'm sure you can tell me without it being a big deal." Harry tried the same angle again, and she knew the next step would be guilt-tripping.

"And I won't tell my _new_ best friends, or anything." Ron got to it before Harry. "Like anyone could replace us," Harry snorted, stealing an olive from Hermione's salad.

"Aren't you _cocky_. And obviously too busy for old school chums. Sleep? Work? Girlfriend? My new mates don't give a toss when it comes to--"

"Do you exchange manly hugs, and alcohol-ridden tears on each other's shoulders? Are you all perpetually trapped between becoming an adult and pretending you're still in school? Oh, God, Ron - please don't tell me you're that weird group of older guys who make inappropriate comments to schoolgirls--"

"'Mione...you..." Ron narrowed his eyes at her, making very threatening gestures with his fork. "There are no tears or inappropriate comments, and I would have only graduated last year! I would hardly cross into Filch territory if I did! We're all very manly, and adult, and we don't ignore one another for things like work."

"Ron, you work in a joke shop." Hermione quickly traded her drink for further explanation at the look on Ron's face. "It's a great business, and it's doing very well, and I know you and George work hard. But if you come into work hungover and an hour late, it doesn't matter. We can't do that."

"Though I would love to, really," Harry added. "How about this weekend? We'll all go out, yeah? You can introduce us to these new mates, and we can prove how much better friends we are than them."

Hermione shoved a chip in her mouth to stop herself from replying right away. She didn't want to give up too much time when she had to be out looking for Astherbey and the plant. But if she refused to go out, they would only get more curious, and Ron would go back to being angry.

"Besides," Hermione said before she could over think it, "I'm the only one who gets to be the shoulder for your alcohol-ridden tears."

Ron groaned, throwing his head back and looking imploringly at the sky as Hermione and Harry laughed. She could see the smile that turned up Ron's mouth, though, and figured she'd made the better choice. Hopefully. " _One_ time, Hermione. _One time_!"

**3:57pm**

People were acting very oddly. Hermione had gotten more accustomed to people staring at her. It came with the end of the war and being Harry Potter's best friend. She didn't like it, but she dealt with it. What she was not accustomed to, were the long side-glances and hushed whispers. People moved away from her like she were contaminated - it was disturbing, to say the least. She had checked her reflection in windows a dozen times, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary with her appearance. She was wearing Muggle clothes, she didn't have anything on her face, and she never really radiated a mugger or serial killer vibe.

They seemed a lot more welcoming toward Annabell, so Hermione sent her off on her own. Besides a teenager smoking a cigarette at the local market, no one had given her a second to speak in the past hour and a half. The fact that she wasn't even sure what she was looking for made things worse. She asked about fortune tellers - which didn't help the staring any - and there were no antique stores in the area. She asked if there was anything interesting or strange going on in the town, or any people that seemed out of place - she only got meaningful looks, a little boy who pointed at herself, or was outright ignored. She felt like she was on an impossible search.

"You're scaring the children, Granger."

Hermione's attempt at a pleasant and calming smile dropped away from her face, and she looked over at Malfoy. His smirk broke into a look of disgust when one of the children ran laughing past him, her dirt covered hand streaking across his black trousers. He cleaned it with a flick of his wand, and Hermione gaped at him.

"You can't do that here!"

"I can do it wherever I please," he snapped. "Just because your lot believe in suppressing my people--"

Hermione laughed. " _What_? What gives you the right to run the world? Wh--"

"What gives you the right to take most of it away?"

"Power corrupts. Our people--"

"There is nothing in this world that is ours. There is yours, and then there is mine. There might be things you try to take, but it still belongs to me."

"Wow, Malfoy. You really didn't learn anything from the war, did you?" On the floor again, in her mind _,_ _Crabbe, Crabbe_ , and trembling. But apparently he hadn't learned what that really was at all. He probably blamed _them_.

"You don't know shit about me," he hissed, stepping toward her. "Everyone had their own bit of the war. You don't have a fucking clue what mine was."

"Oh, torturing people, kissing Voldemort's feet, manipul-- And _speaking of manipulation_!" Hermione pointed an accusing finger and looked around her; the careful distance from the locals and the watchful eyes. "What did you do?"

His whole demeanor changed. His threatening stance straightened, and the anger on his face turned into smug triumph. He was probably one of those people with multiple personalities. She heard that they formed when people went through something traumatic - growing up with Lucius and having to deal with himself all the time, he must have _dozens_.

"Fair game. All my hard work, and you screwed me. You have no room to breathe a word about manipulation or underhanded tactics."

"Your specialties!" she huffed. "You tried to trick me too!"

"Very Slytherin of you, Granger. I suppose it didn't work out for you, though..." He waved his hand around them. "Seeing how you're here."

Hermione smiled and shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Now, what did you do?"

He gave her an innocent look that was such a contradiction to his character, she could have gagged. "I just made friends with the locals," he said casually, and then sneered. " _Great_ company."

She glared at him and slowly shook her head. "One day, all your lies are going to come back and bury you in bad karma... Oh, wait..." She smiled sweetly and he gave her a disgusted look, his lips forming into a quick, thin line of anger, before he smirked at her and walked away.

Nasty little ferret.

She didn't know what he had done, but he had somehow made the locals unwilling to talk to her. Without being able to communicate with them, she had nothing. She could only hope that Annabell was making progress, or they would have to come back with her under a Glamour in order to officially declare it a false lead.

Hermione turned to go find her partner, and pulled up short at the two policemen behind her. She smiled at them and went to sidestep, when the shorter one held up his hand. She briefly considered a quick spell to get away but she didn't need the Ministry coming in to investigate unauthorized magic in a Muggle community, and then have to _Obliviate_ all the bystanders. "We have a few questions to ask you, so we need you to come with us."

**March 9; 9:20am**

This was the second time Hermione found herself in a small room, staring at an authority figure, in less than twenty-four hours. She really didn't appreciate the new turn in her life. The Muggles had kept her for over an hour yesterday and while she doubted one of her bosses would take that long, it was still as unnerving. She also doubted that her boss would be running a criminal background check, interrogating her, and continuously asking why she was on the run from the police. Malfoy obviously understood the power of rumors, and had used it to shut down all information in the town and hold her up with the local police.

He would pay. She would start with his eyebrows and a few boils, and maybe--

"Is that true?"

He would definitely pay. "It was a very small town. The residents grew suspicious of me asking too many questions, and a rumor started. The police took me in for questioning as a precaution, but it really wasn't a big deal."

"You were a witch, on assignment from the Wizarding Ministry who was taken in for questioning by Muggle police. That could have been a sticky situation, Granger - it is a big deal."

"I understand, sir. I'll be more careful next time."

Annabell. It was mostly Malfoy's fault, but _this_ was because of her _partner_ \-- someone she was supposed to _trust_. The woman had gone running off to the department heads that morning and had told them about the little _situation_. Nothing had come of it and there had been no reason to go tell their bosses. Hermione had been hoping to keep it out of the weekly report, but Annabell hadn't even given it a day. If she had been there when Hermione had run into Malfoy, she could only guess what would have been coming down on her head now. It wasn't illegal, but teaming up with an ex-Death Eater for a Ministry assignment? If she hadn't lost her job, she would have definitely lost the investigation - no matter how necessary it had seemed at the time partner with him.

It would be easier without Annabell. Hermione had things she had to do, and she was better off doing those on her own. Her partner had been helpful, but it certainly wasn't with anything Hermione couldn't do on her own. She didn't need to run an investigation, research, and beat Malfoy, while also trying to hide most of it from her partner. She couldn't trust Annabell, she knew that now.

"Since I'm here now, sir, I was wondering if I could take on the assignment on my own now. There are mostly small towns left for the investigation, and I think it looks more suspicious with two people. I know Annabell was placed on the assignment to assist me, but I'm very capable of doing this on my own. She's been a great partner, but I want to prove my own capabilities to the department."

Hermione had been planning on trying to make it work with Annabell, she really had. She would have had to work extra hard to keep certain things hidden, but she didn't want to give the department another reason to think Annabell was insufficient in her work. Perhaps this was part of the reason she hadn't gotten far in the department yet, but this assignment was too important. It was a chance for Hermione to prove herself beyond being Harry Potter's best friend, and gain respect and the chance to really make a difference in Wizarding Law. Most of all, though, if the plant was truly out there, she had to stop the wrong people from getting it, find it herself, and find a way to use it for good.

"The weekly reports have been going well and, given your academic achievements, I think you can handle this assignment on your own, Granger. I'll consider your request and let you know by this evening."

"Thank you." Her voice was firm, but guilt began to swirl hotly in her chest.

**1:48pm**

Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket, careful not to make too much noise, though she was pretty sure the man knew she was following him. Anxiety swelled up inside her bones -- like when you know something is wrong, but you don't know what , so you're left paranoid and maybe more afraid than you should be.

The man stopped walking, bending to place his grocery bags on the ground, and Hermione held her wand a little tighter. She had been in town for hours now, but it wasn't until she entered the supermarket that she found what she was looking for. It was the way the shoppers avoided him, skirted around him, tried not to look. The town had seemed a pretty close community, but he obviously wasn't a part of it. She had followed him since he left the store.

He turned towards her now and stared for five pulses of her blood in her fist. She couldn't understand what he said when he spoke, but she caught the heavy accent on _Harry Potter_. He must be a wizard, then. "I'm going to cast a Translation charm on you, so I can hear you speak in English."

He just continued to stare, pressing his palms into his legs. Apprehension filled him when she raised her wand, and his brow scrunched as if he was waiting for pain. He let out a breath after and looked at the ground for a moment, taking off his hat. He took three strides towards her, stopping several steps from her, and pulled his hat off his head to place it over his heart. Hermione automatically stepped back at the despair, regret, and resolve carved into the lines of his face. As if to hide or make room for the intensity of that well of emotion. As if to back away from her own self, for causing it.

"I lied to a few people," he began, and the heaviness of his emotions were made even clearer in his voice. "They were strangers, and I was drunk, and I bragged about discovering something that made me immortal. I like...I like history. I pretended I was two hundred and three, for entertainment and...it is a lie. I have discovered nothing. Did they send you?"

Hermione's eyebrows drew together in her confusion, and she shook her head. "Did who send me?"

"The men."

"What men?"

He looked at her for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the ground, and she could hear the hitch of his breath from where she stood. "They heard this rumor and thought it was the truth. Thought I had found some flower of immortality. I didn't. They...they tore apart my home, broke my wand, and...no matter what they did to me, I could not give them an answer. I am not immortal. I know nothing about flowers."

Hermione was more mortified than she had been before, and she let out a hard breath. The man seemed sincere. She didn't think anyone could fake those emotions that well, and he hadn't tried to defend himself when he thought she was there to hurt him. Which meant these men must have broken his wand - these men who probably did horrible things to him to try and make him talk. These men who were after the plant as well and were obviously barbaric and cruel with their means to obtain it.

"I can get you a safe place to stay," she offered.

"No. I thought I was safe here now, but... there are places I can go."

"Are you sure? I--"

"I'm sure." He hesitated, foot lifting and his shoulders turning slightly. "You're Harry Potter's friend. I've seen you in the papers."

"Yes, I am. I won't harm you in any way."

He nodded, pulling his hat back on, and turned back for his groceries. "I can't believe that a little story in a little pub spread out around the world."

"Pebbles can make waves on the other side of an ocean."

"Is that true?"

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe. It's a saying."

He smiled and nodded again, walking toward her. "I left my bicycle at the store. Is this flower... Is it real?"

Hermione walked with him, tucking her wand back into her pocket. "No."

"A lot of trouble for something that isn't real."

Why he decided to tell crazy stories at a pub one night, she didn't know. But it was horrible to have your life put in danger because of something like that and the desperation of other people. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Hermione shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. "Whatever those men did to you... It was unfair."

The man scratched his ear and gave her a look that was too quick for her to catch. His bicycle was gleaming in the parking lot, and she scanned over the tops of cars before her eyes found what might have been the most disturbing thing she had seen all day. She muttered some farewell to the man next to her and took a sharp left. She was caught between finding a place to Disapparate, and staying to make sure Malfoy didn't spot the man.

Distraction, she knew, was key. Malfoy's head was bobbing toward the supermarket, but she didn't know if he had seen her with the man and was trying to play it off. If she could distract him long enough for the man to ride back to his house, then Malfoy wasn't likely to find him, considering the luck she had before she stumbled upon him.

She had taken less than a dozen steps towards the blond, when he glanced back to scan the area behind him and spotted her. His eyes passed her at first, swung back, and then, before she could even register him turning, he was stalking toward her. There were dashes of red across his cheekbones, his hair was a mess, and his lips had disappeared in a thin, white line. The closer he got, the better she could make out the vein at his temple and the storm on his face.

Hermione had to remind herself that this was the Muggle world, and that people were around them, before she pulled out her wand. Malfoy hadn't pulled his own, so she figured she was safe for now. She couldn't help the triumphant smile in the least, and Malfoy looked like he was going to explode at the sight of it. Oh, sweet revenge.

"This is becoming a bad habit, Malfoy."

"For some reason, the Muggles thought I was a stalker. I just spent three hours in a cell after--"

"I'm happy you finally found your rightful place in the wor--"

" _My rightful place_?" He started towards her again, and the raw fury in his question and body had her retreating before she could stop herself. "Know where I think _your_ rightful place is, Mudblood?"

"You're fairly predictable." This came out a little too breathlessly, and she halted her feet, drawing her wand when he reached for his.

She wasn't used to this sort of anger from Malfoy. She was used to sneers and biting remarks. She was used to the imagined vision of his hand shaking or fear twisting his face. She had never seen this sort of hectic rage from him, and, quite suddenly, she realized he was _big_. A man now instead of a boy, all filled out and towering above her. She had always seen him _so small_ before. So small to the wall of her anger and strength.

"You belong at the bottom of the mud. At the least, at the feet of your betters--"

Hermione laughed, but it was cold and hard on the tissue of her throat. "My betters? You're so ignorant. I bet you try so hard to ignore it, but I bet I just blow your mind, Malfoy. My blood is _all_ Muggle, and yet I exceed you in magic. That's what--"

"You don't _exceed_ me in _anything_ but writing answers down on a piece of paper! You outscored me in most our classes because your entire, pathetic life was dedicated to having your nose in books, or answering questions in class, or--"

"That is--"

"But you light a candle, and I'll set the world on fire. Magic is my _blood_ , the entire force of my _life_. You'll never surpass me in that, or--"

"Is this what your father told you, to--"

"This is what I _know_! That--"

"I bet he did, didn't he? He really did a number on--"

His wand jabbed into her neck as hers hit his chest, and she could feel the fading control holding onto the rage of his magic. Raw currents of it pulsed against her skin, jumping out like a physical touch against her throat. It felt like snakes, slithering and snapping, but hot to the touch. His hand was shaking, but it wasn't in fear, and he was breathing harshly through clenched teeth.

"I would be careful," he rasped, and there was a darkness to the harshness of his tone that raised the hairs at the back of her neck. "It's starting to look well worth it."

She narrowed her eyes challengingly. "Is this bringing back memories, Malfoy? Do you miss people screaming at the other end of your--" He broke, his wand drawing back and the side of his fist slamming into her chest.

She fell back, her arms spinning wildly for purchase. Her back hit the car behind her, and whatever Malfoy was going to say was interrupted by a loud gasp beside them. Neither of them looked, but Hermione suddenly remembered the outside world. She took in a breath, shaking with her anger, and pushed herself fully upright. Her chest was aching, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

"If you ever do that again, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life," she promised.

"I doubt that," he spat.

It looked like electricity, the white lines zapping uncontrollably from the tip of his wand. She knew they felt like warm snakes against his thigh as his hand dropped there and they both glared at one another. The anger between them felt like a thick fog to her other senses, but he turned first, taking half of it with him. She sent a quick look around, making sure that no one was around them still, and sent a Leg-Locking curse towards his feet.

Ripping the earring box from her pocket, she opened it and touched the Portkey back to her flat, leaving at the satisfying sound of Malfoy hitting pavement.

**March 14; 7:07pm**

"So Annabell will get her own assignment, I'm sure. It was just the best option for the assignment I was given. Plus, she was there to help and I didn't need any. She took it really well, actually. She said she would rather be doing something that didn't involve plant investigations anyway." Hermione shrugged, but still felt a tingle of guilt as she remembered just how easily Annabell had taken it. As if she had been expecting it. Hermione wondered how many other people had done the same. She felt horrible, being included in that group.

"You're investigating plants?" Her father tried to look interested, but she could see the confusion in the wrinkles of his brow.

"Ones that might be dangerous or very useful," Hermione explained, dropping forks into the silverware tray of the dishwasher.

When she had first come home after turning seventeen, she had done the dishes by magic. Her mother had loved it, and her father had dubbed her the Official Dishwasher of the house before they asked her to show them about a million different things she could do. When she had first come home after the war, she hadn't used magic once in the house - her parents seemed pleased with that.

"Is it interesting work?"

"Very much so. I won't always be given a plant assignment, of course. But it's my first one, and it's rather exciting. If I impress the heads of the department, I will be given better assignments. Eventually, I can really make a difference in Magical Law."

She had just finished the last of the names on the rumor list that afternoon and come up empty once again. There were still two names she hadn't found an answer for, but she had searched the dozens of Wizarding locations she found the name in. A search of the names in the Muggle world revealed hundreds of different places. Hermione decided she would have better luck moving on to the other rumors than trying to search every place for those people. She had only started with people because they were mobile, but it was the other places on the rumor list she was more hopeful about.

She hadn't encountered Malfoy since their fight at the supermarket. It made her incredibly worried. Having him in stride with her progress was one thing, but not seeing him meant that she couldn't know what he was up to, or how far he had gotten. The rumors had come from pure-blood circles, so she knew he had to have been working from the same rumor list. She didn't know where he was, but she felt like she was going too slowly in getting there herself.

"This sounds like you're not just working in an office, Hermione. I remember you said this job wasn't dangerous because you'd be working with paperwork and not your wand." Her mother only ever wore a bored expression when she was concerned, and Hermione recognized it immediately.

"Eventually, but I have to earn that first. It's really not that dangerous, though. I'm not enforcing laws or anything." Her mother gave a worried glance, and Hermione focused on scrubbing the plate clean. "I promise," _that I'm not enforcing laws, but it is a bit dangerous - perhaps more dangerous than the department can even realize_.

"All right."

**March 18; 4:08am**

It wasn't the ideal time to be entering a cave in Bulgaria and traveling down a steep and narrow stone staircase. She had found the cave full of tourists and guides the day before, though, and she knew the only time she could do it was when the rest of the world wouldn't bother.

'A lake' had been written on the list, but Hermione had found it pretty useless until yesterday. After spending the entire day searching Rieti -- and finding nothing -- an older man happened to find her. A scholar. She had found it a good conversation, but had been looking for an escape the moment he had not-so-slyly brought up the plant. He had tried to get information out of her in a pleasant sort of way, and she had fed him a pack of worthless facts almost too easily. He had mentioned The Devil's Throat and Bulgaria before Malfoy came striding through the door of the small restaurant and Hermione had changed the subject. By the time the older man was ready to leave, she had not gotten anything else out of him.

She had found the cave an hour later - it almost made up for the hopelessness that had overtaken her after having been so sure in Rieti.

The cave was pitch black once she reached the bottom of the stairs. The only sound was from the waterfall, echoing out the power of its rush across the rock and moss. She was not looking forward to this. The water would be cold and completely black. Even with her _Lumos_ , she would see maybe an arm's length in front of her. God only knew what lived inside the water...or in the cave, for that matter.

Her light swung off ancient carvings in the walls, and the air seemed to vibrate with the roar of the waterfall. Complete darkness surrounded the orb of her wandlight, and she could hear the quick flapping of bat wings when they came too close. It gave Hermione a Very Bad Feeling, which was something she was rather used to, but not at all something she liked to experience. It was a wretched familiarity, like change - something that happened quite often, but it was always a little different, and certainly never comfortable. Or seeing Ron's face light up with a goofy grin, and knowing it didn't really mean what it used to.

She was halfway across the bridge, contemplating the water underneath it and trying to summon anything important that might be in its depths before diving in, when she heard it. A scraping noise, barely detectable over the waterfall, and small enough to have been lost had it been any farther away. Hermione jerked to a stop, putting out her light and staring down in the direction of her trainers, as if she could suddenly be invisible if she stopped breathing,moving, and opened her eyes real wide. Common sense kicked in a moment later and she brought her wand up, her stance defensive.

"Hello?" Which was really a stupid thing to ask, because if it was anyone who could understand her, they were standing in absolute blackness for a reason.

They must have seen her coming, with the light. If they were dangerous, they could have easily taken her out in her approach. But if they weren't dangerous, she didn't know what the reason could be for standing in the dark, at the depth of a cave, at four in the morning.

Her breathing was coming a little too fast, and her heart was beating like a heavy drum under the thunder of water. Her fine hairs were standing, and adrenaline made pulses along her shoulders and chest. She licked dry lips and took three quick steps forward, shoving her light out and scanning for a sign of person or animal. A growl made her pause, and, then, there it was. A shadowed face and twisted mouth that had stepped forward into her light. On instinct, she leapt back, a sound of surprise squeaking from her throat, and had to shove her arms out in a wild whirl to keep her balance. The sound that came out of the darkness was nothing short of amusement.

"Graceful," he drawled, as she hissed his surname. "Your abilities in stealth leave something to be desired. Death, by the looks of it."

"What are you doing here?" She narrowed her eyes at the sound of fabric - as if he was brushing off his clothes, which was ridiculous, since he couldn't see anything.

"I'm sacrificing a virgin, Granger, what do you think? You arrived _just_ in time. The--"

"Shut up," she spat, and edged closer to put him in the wandlight again. She didn't need any more surprises from him. He held his hand up at the flood of light into his eyes and turned his face away. He was wearing simple trousers and a T-shirt, which might have been more strange than his apparent fondness for dark caves.

She wondered if he lost his wand, or had some freaky part-animal talent of seeing in the dark. She thought to ask him if ferrets had night vision, but decided it was more likely he had seen her light coming. He'd probably put out his and planned on standing in the dark, watching her like a total creep. Let the Mudblood do the work, then try to overpower her to take whatever she had found. She shivered at the possibility of her going on about her business with his stalker eyes watching her the whole time. It was unnerving to say the least.

"You eavesdropped," she accused.

He let out a hard, quick breath, as if the thought of it was preposterous or something. _Please_. "He told me the same as he, obviously, told you. I've no need of listening in on your conversations. I'd rather not suffer the brain aneurysms that come with the sound of your vo--"

"Well, if one happens to rupture, I would really appreciate it if you made sure I was there to see it. I--"

"Hopeful for a chance to save me? Th--"

"You wish, Malfoy. Twice was enough."

Silence greeted her statement, and he clasped his hands behind his back, staring out at the dark lake. His face was stone, and she watched his neck move as he swallowed. His jaw was clenching, and when his arms swung back to his sides, she was almost positive that he pulled his wand.

He lazily turned his eyes back to her. "Go on and jump in then."

"Cowards first." She swept her arm out.

He glared, and it wasn't until his chin rose that she realized her own nose was sticking up in the air. "That statement makes no sense. If--"

"It makes perfect sense, Malfoy. I'm not turning my back to you, let alone jumping into a lake while--"

"Get over yourself, Granger," he snapped. "If I wanted to kill you -- or bind you, or curse you, or _anything_ \-- I would have done it before you even knew I was here."

"So why don't you go first? What's--" "As if I would trust you not--"

"I'm not the Death Ea--"

"Are you scared, Granger?"

"That doesn't work on me!" She jabbed her wand into his chest, temporarily enclosing them in darkness. "It's just water, and--"

"Just water? They call it Devil's Throat for a reason, twit. Legend says that these waters lead to the underworld. Men have never come back ag--"

"Oh, please."

"They used to drop their dead into this water, for a quicker journey. Did you not see the carvings of Orph--"

"Did your mummy read you some scary bedtime--" He jerked toward her, and her step back was far less quick, but he had stopped moving by the time her foot touched down.

He sneered at her, muttering something that was lost under the roar, and the muscles in his arms tensed. His head cocked slightly to the right, and his eyes were cold, but she was used to that. "Even with your... _background_ , you should know that stories in the Wizarding world hold far more weight than how lightly your Muggles take them."

She narrowed her eyes back at him. "You're not going to scare me away from this. I've seen the things that go bump in the night, Malfoy, and your stories don't frighten me."

They glared at one another for several seconds before she turned, gripping the railing on the bridge, and moving quickly in case he got any ideas. She hoisted herself up and over, clenching her wand tightly, and holding her breath in the two seconds of free fall.

The water was ice cold when she sunk into it, shocking her eyes wide, and making her skin tingle in little sparks. She waved her wand quickly, producing the Bubble-Head Charm, before casting another _Lumos_. She took a shaky breath, and let it out slowly, spinning to make sure there wasn't anything coming towards the disturbance. She could see even less than she had thought. A few inches in front of the light, and when she pushed her wand out, she could see what was in front of it, but couldn't even make out the length of her arm. Algae and water scum floated all around her, passing over her skin in soft clumps, forming trick outlines of more worrisome things.

She had been in a rush to get this over with and had had little time for research before she came. After leaving Rieti, she had come to the cave and found far too many people for her plans. She had taken the tour with a guide and a pack of tourists, before leaving for Norcia. She had less than two hours of sleep before she came back to Devil's Throat. She hated to go blind into a situation but -- with the man's willingness to tell her, and the growing amount of people who were also searching -- she was in a rush.

She spun, turning herself towards the bottom of the leg and kicking her feet. Malfoy's words echoed in her mind, but she pushed them away. Hermione knew perfectly well how true a seemingly outrageous story could be. Especially in the Wizarding world - Dumbledore had taught them that from beyond the grave. The man in Rieti could have been setting her up, but he didn't seem the type to try and kill competition.

_For this?_ She had a feeling that the possibility of possessing such a plant could bring out a lot of different sides to people. None of which were good sides either. Nearly every great and powerful object had an equally great and powerful dark past. All of them could be chasing a hoax, or pointless rumors. However, the possibility that they weren't could make a lot of people do a lot of bad things.

She was even more nervous at the thought, but when she reached the bottom, it wasn't a tunnel to the underworld. Rock, grime, dirt, and algae, thick upon her fingertips. She groaned as she swam to her left, searching the floor of the lake and then, every few seconds, the water around her. This was going to take hours.

**6:42am**

She had found five stray earrings, a Mickey Mouse watch, a flip-flop, a cell phone, several lighters, clothes, and what she was pretty sure was a human toe. There had also been the litter of bottles, coins, and other junk. Nothing that seemed evenly vaguely important or worth it.

She pushed up towards the surface, jerking her body away from something slick against her skin, and broke the charm once she reached the air. It was just as dark as when she had dived in, and she only had time for two breaths before she heard voices on the bridge. She spun around, staring up at the lights that had come on along the bridge and cave path, and jerked her head up. Light lit the outline of the gorge, though none reached the depths to where she was. She could make out the bats soaring past the crack of light and gave them her quick look of aggravation consisting of bunched cheeks and a wrinkled nose.

She tried to wade through the water as silently as possible, searching for the place she could pull herself out from. There were at least five people on the bridge, but as long as she could make it out of the water, she could Apparate. She could barely see the edge of rock a few meters in front of her, through the soft haze of electrical lights, but she caught the glimmer as soon as it happened. To her left, and at the other side of the bridge, there was a sparkle of light like the sun glinting off metal. She paused, and the spot lit up with a dim glow. It was just enough to make out the sharper angles of Malfoy's face, his chin down and his eyes looking up at her. His hair was pushed back against his head, and his fist was clenched against the cave wall, as if he were holding something. He faded into the darkness in less than two seconds, and then three little orbs of light appeared around her head.

Her gasp was mirrored from those on the bridge, and the orbs were gone in the next second. Hermione's eyes flashed back toward Malfoy, nothing short of accusing, but it was only darkness as the group of tourists rushed towards her.

"Sorry, I was just--" _going for a swim, fell in, looking for something_ _._

"You can't be in water! No water!" A man was yelling at her, and something was

clinking angrily off metal above her.

"I...didn't know. I thought it was okay." She pulled herself onto the rock shore, shaking in the cold.

She jerked her head towards the crack of sound, and glowered at the dark. He had used her as a distraction to get out, of course. The need for retribution flickered to life inside her chest, and she glared harder at the spot. Draco Malfoy had been a dark, ugly thing in her life for far too long.

**March 22; 2:02am**

Hermione crossed out the last Russian town on the large location list next to the rumor list. She capped the red marker and gently lined up two Portkeys for Germany and Italy that she would take in a few hours. Plopping down in her chair, she began her nightly ritual of searching the internet for any clues to where Astherbey might be now. Jabbing the Enter key for the search engine, she tapped her fingers impatiently, looking back up at the lists.


	5. Part Five

**March 26; 3:49pm**

Oh, the start had been convincing, she would give him that. The owl from the Ministry had arrived with the latest rumor about the plant being sold in Germany, and she had left for the city in less than fifteen minutes. It hadn't been easy to find the right people, but it hadn't been that hard either. The gruff man who had refused a Translation charm and led her through the shadows of the warehouse had been a great choice. Her heart had been thumping like an angry march, her wand had been held in a tight fist, and she had become so paranoid, she almost hadn't trusted her own self.

The man who had greeted her -- with his shifty eyes, sweating profusely --, had almost given it away. But the man behind him, with the gun tucked into his waistband, had covered up any questions she might have had. They had interrogated her for almost twenty minutes, and she had sat through a fight outside the door that had mentioned three cities she had quickly memorized. She had been incredibly nervous, afraid, and trying desperately to act calm, dangerous, and like she could afford the obscene amount of money they were asking for. It had been a perfect setup, and she had fallen for it with hardly a question.

Mr. Sweat had blown the whole thing to pieces. Malfoy really should have picked him for the one standing silently with a gun. He had clicked open the suitcase and threw it open toward her gaze for three hungry seconds before Mr. Gun promptly slammed it shut. She didn't know German, but she figured by his hand motions that he was referring to money. Of course, the best way for them not to have to show her would be if she had to show them the money first.

The _plant_ was a fake. She knew it by second two, when she recognized it. She had only seen it once in an obscure Herbology book about equally obscure plants, but it had only been a few weeks ago, so she remembered. There had been a slight difference in the stem, the coloring, the number of petals, and the appearance of stamen - but she knew it all the same. He had transfigured the flower, but he wasn't that good.

Mr. Sweat had broken in under three minutes of her questioning. If she hadn't found out, and he hadn't made the mistake, she could have wasted days or a week on the false clues.

Malfoy would pay.

**March 28; 7:28am**

The noise startled her so much that she bit her finger in pursuit of devouring her bagel. She looked up towards the window and narrowed her eyes at the owl, carefully placing her book on the coffee table. If this had anything to do with Malfoy again, she would stalk right into Malfoy Manor and rip his toenails off. Or at least hex him with something ugly and permanent.

She fed the owl the last bite of her bagel, which apparently was safer than putting it near her own mouth and fingers, and unrolled the parchment. She didn't recognize the name, but she remembered the name of the antique shop. The vase that she had told him to put on hold had been stolen last night, or so the man claimed. She didn't know if Malfoy would go so far as to steal the vase, and if it were that important, she figured he would have stolen it much sooner.

Hermione sighed, reading the note again. Just yesterday she had tracked down a name and found a note pinned to his front door. It had listed the name of a pub in Germany that she was supposed to go to tonight, and had said that he didn't know anything else. The fact that he felt the need to put this on his front door, and that he didn't answer when she knocked, meant that she had probably been far from the first to find him. There had been the scholar as well, and the violent people that the sweet man in the bowler hat had told her about. If it hadn't been Malfoy who stole the vase, then it could have been a hundred different people. Malfoy wasn't the only competition - she just hadn't encountered the rest as often.

She quickly changed her clothes and pulled on her shoes, doubtful that she would find a clue to who did it, but ho-- Hermione looked up at the wall for a moment, blinking slowly, and the grin that spread across her face was nothing short of devious.

**9:56am**

She spotted him the moment he turned the corner. She didn't know how he managed to sneak around Hogwarts so much with that bright hair, but it made finding him in a crowd ridiculously easy. She could only hope that he was paranoid enough about her to get curious at the sight of curly hair. She had made sure to puff it up more while she had been waiting for him to arrive, and it looked more beastly now than when she first woke up.

She didn't chance looking to see if he had found her, not wanting to risk him catching on. He was at the end of the block of shops when she ran across the street towards the other end of his side.. If he hadn't seen her on the other side, she was hoping the fast movement would make him glance. She tucked a notebook and folder closer to her chest and hurried her steps down the street, looking excited and rushed.

There hadn't been a clue as to who broke into the shop, which was more bad news than it was good, but Hermione worked with it anyway. The owner had been a bit hesitant to go along with her plan, but he had agreed. He was to send an owl to Malfoy and request an immediate meeting about the vase for ten that morning. When Malfoy came, the owner would tell him that the vase had been stolen and refund him his money as store policy said. When Malfoy asked, he would tell him it was two foreign men, tall, one of them well-built and the other with a scar across his face. Just enough information, Hermione thought, to make it seem real and not a story. The owner would tell him that they would look into the leads they had and contact Malfoy if they found the vase. When Malfoy asked what the leads were, the owner was to tell him that when the two men were alone in the back room, he had heard them whisper the names Tula and Ryazan.

The names, of course, were really two cities in Russia, and Malfoy was likely to figure this out. However, her plan at the antique shop was phase two of her revenge. She wanted to keep Malfoy away from the right track for as long as possible. It was a risk to have him see her in the same area when he learned all this information, but as long as the two owners played it off properly, he would be more determined to see if the information was true than in knowing it was a setup.

She didn't know if it was in her head or not, but she thought she could sense him behind her. Tracking her, keeping even with her feet, but remaining far enough back that she might not spot him if she glanced over her shoulder. Pulling the door of the apothecary open, she met the eyes of the woman behind the counter, who nodded in greeting. Hermione looked around, spotting the swirl of a robe in one of the back aisles as the only customer in sight.

"Now?"

"Almost," Hermione whispered, pulling out her identification and holding it in the hand that faced the windows. "He should be on his way inside pretty soon. Remember that he has platinum hair, and he's fairly tall, grey eyes."

"Right. What's his name?"

"He'll probably make one up. Let's go into your office now."

Hermione moved around the counter, following the thankfully calm woman. She was hoping Miss Waturgly wouldn't recognize Malfoy, or all sorts of strange rumors were going to come out of this. As far as Hermione knew, Malfoy's picture had only been printed once after the Malfoys were saved from Azkaban. That had been nearly a year ago, in a mess of other Death Eater pictures and War Memorial pages. Lucius Malfoy was a recognizable face, but Draco's face was far less known to the public at large. She could only hope that he was smart enough to know that his last name no longer pulled any weight within the Wizarding world and that it was best not to mention it if he wanted to get anywhere. She wasn't really sure where Malfoy came in on brains. All she truly knew was that she had had top marks in all of her classes, save Potions, but she thought that was Snape's doing far more than Malfoy's. A brave man he might have turned out to be, but that didn't mean their old Potions professor had hated them any less.

"You have it memorized, what you're going to say?"

"Yes," Waturgly told her, peeking over the rim of a cauldron, and continuing when Hermione didn't speak. "A Russian woman approached me to enter into a business deal, where we would have a select group of clientele and keep it secret from the mass public. We would be selling a potion that granted the consumer visions of the future. I would also supply the woman with as many ingredients as she needed, and my name would be the only one given to our clientele. As I have a reputation for finding the magical properties in--"

"Remember the Unbreakable Vow."

"Yes. I would also have to be willing to work here and out of some place called Orel. I would get half the profits, but when she demanded we perform an Unbreakable Vow for further information, I decided it must be something on the Dark Market, and I didn't want to get involved."

"Good, good. Now, remember, this is an Auror in training." She almost rolled her eyes at the thought. "This is to judge how well he can detect lying. As soon as he manages to be remotely convincing, then tell him the story. Don't let on that you know it's a fake, or that this is a test, because he doesn't know that."

"Of course."

"All right. Any questions?"

"What if he asks what ingredients the woman wanted?"

"She didn't say. Everything you tell him is all that you know." Hermione took a deep breath and smiled at the other woman, pulling her notebook back against her chest. "Ready?"

There was an older woman waiting impatiently at the counter when they walked out, and no sign of anyone else in the shop. She could swear she felt eyes on her, but he wouldn't be willing to make a move until after she left. She gave a nod to Waturgly, opening the door and stepping outside. She looked a bit triumphant at the idea of Malfoy falling for her setup, but if he saw her, he would probably pass it off that she got information. He would find out the truth eventually -- hopefully around the time she was holding the plant in her hands.

**March 30; 4:17pm**

Hermione brought her forehead off the wall after resting it for a moment under heavy defeat, inching closer to the liquid she had been staring at on the small kitchen table. She carefully walked over the debris of a life in her sensible heels, hiking up her dress. The liquid had gathered in a bright green pool, a few droplets leading to a fallen teacup. It was either juice in a color appealing to children, or it was a potion.

It had only been a few hours ago when she had found Astherbey. Or, at least, what she had hoped was Astherbey. Deep among her search engine notifications, group emails, and website links, she had found a post on a psychic message board. It had been two days old and written by some appalled psychic. It said that there was a woman in Germany who was charging an outrageous amount of money for readings. There had been a few responses from the equally disgusted, the people who knew people who knew people, and one that had sent Hermione out the door within five minutes.

_Changed my life_ , the post had said. _The woman seemed obsessed with her teacup. Acted like she was about to try the finest wine in the world. I thought she was sauced, and it only got worse when her eyes rolled back._

She had dressed up before leaving the house, in an attempt to fit into every expensive place in the small town. It had been pointless, and hours later, it was a pack of teenagers walking down the street who had told her how to get there. The house had been abandoned again, but Astherbey hadn't left a note and instead seemed to opt for leaving behind everything else. The house looked completely ransacked. The front door had been ajar, furniture had been tipped over, shelves swiped, and drawers thrown and emptied. It didn't look like the woman had left in a rush, but like someone had gone through it in a rush. An end table was laying on its side when Hermione first entered, a lamp shattered to tiny shards. It looked like a struggle. It looked like Astherbey hadn't seen someone coming, and that that person had been far more dangerous than Hermione.

There had been an eerie tingle with the nervous sweat that coated her skin, and though she had no idea what kind of person this woman might be, Hermione still feared for her. Thankfully, there wasn't any sign of blood, but someone had definitely gone through like a tornado.

Pushing her hair back behind her ears, her fingers hovered with restraint along their bones. The post on the message board had said something about the teacup, and it could either be another dead end, or finally something tangible. Finally something to tell her that this wasn't just a wild hunt and wishful thinking. Hermione liked facts. Solid, hard, unmoving facts. Facts like a mountain.

Her heart was pounding painfully, and had been since she pushed the front door open. It had only gotten worse when she spotted the green liquid, and now she was half afraid of what she might be looking at. The sort of fear that excited you, like going to a horror movie that scares the crap out of you and walking out with a grin. The sort of fear that comes with thinking that a touch might make it all explode in your face, while validating what you want so badly to be true at the same time.

It was cool against her fingers, and just _wet_. Not slimy, or thick, or grainy, but just like water or tea. Tea with _leaves_ , leaves from a _plant_ \-- which seemed to be a pretty simple thought process, but sometimes she had to break things down in her head before they made any sort of sense. Because this was huge. This could be...

Earthy and rich, but with a delicate overtone that she couldn't place. In fact, she was pretty sure she had never smelt it before in her life. She studied the green on her fingertip for a moment, and then looked up at the window as she brought it to her mouth. As if she couldn't watch herself do something that might be very stupid. Putting what might be a potion, unnamed and unknown, into her system wasn't exactly her most brilliant idea. Harry and Ron would have thought her nuts.

She swiped it across her taste buds, and only had a moment to register that the taste held a startling familiarity, before the world disappeared. It couldn't have been more than a second, like a picture shoved in front of her vision and then taken away. Harry and Ron, their faces determined, in the doorway of her flat. Hermione stared, unseeing, at the window, and looked down at her fingertip. She cocked her head, breathing too fast now, and ran her finger through the liquid again.

Harry in her kitchen, half lost in smoke from the stove as he waved at it with a newspaper, and Ron laughing somewhere behind her. Her hand was shaking when the present came back to her, and she was muttering things under her breath that she couldn't hear.

"Okay," she whispered, took a deep breath, and blew it out quickly. "Okay, okay, okay. Let me think here... Let me..."

This...this could be it. Or at least from the thing that was causing all the rumors about the Dominus Temporis. Even if it wasn't the Temporis, _this_ proved that she hadn't been wasting her time. There really was something out there, beyond rumors, and all this searching hadn't been pointless. Her hope for the existence of a plant that could cure people began to grow larger and heavier, and beside it, the seeds of fact.

Hermione's eyes were opened as wide as they could go, as if to take in every detail and burn it in. If Astherbey had seen her coming, there must have been some way to control what picture of the future you would see. She ran two fingers through the liquid, catching as much as she could along the length of her fingers, barely any green left on the table. She stuck her fingers into her mouth, concentrating on what clue she should follow that would lead her to the plant.

Her fingers, flipping a page slowly. The carpet past the book was the same color as the one in her living room and she read the work of Oliver Se before the book changed, the carpet turning to wood flooring, and her hands shaking. Sears, O., in a list, and then she was back again. She barely registered the name as she swept the little bit of tea left into her palm and licked up the drops, thinking of exactly where she would find the plant. Whiteness flashed in her sight, and then an explosion of blurring, streaming colors. Pain shot through her brain, roaring like a fire behind her eyes. She was screaming when she came back, collapsing against the table, and holding her dizzy head.

What was that? Did it mean the plant didn't exist, at least in the way she thought of it? Was there some sort of magical guard that prevented her from finding it this way? Did the tea/potion have something in it that did this when she ingested too much? Her skull was threatening to crack from temple to temple, forehead to crown. Her eyes might fall out and her brain might leak, and she couldn't even see for several seconds from the pain.

"Jesus," she muttered, getting herself under control.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed between getting herself together, Apparating to Magical London, and gaining access to the British Wizarding Identification Directory. What she did know, was that there was a wooden floor past her trembling hands, and a list of two Oliver Sears, and five O. Sears. She shoved the book onto the table, her handwriting shaky as she copied down the addresses, with her heart racing against her palm.

**7:12pm**

"Are you just going to stand there?"

"You _could_ let your best friends in, you know. You look like those people on the street who gape at us."

"Sorry," Hermione cracked, and cleared her throat, stepping to the side.

Ron's look told her she was mental, Harry's told her he was concerned. "I feel very welcomed, thanks."

"Shut up, Ron. I was...deep in thought."

"Contemplating what we said? It wasn't an offer. Much more like a demand, right, Harry? We thought you might have disappeared from the leg of the earth."

Hermione shot him a look as Harry pushed the door shut behind them, and she quickly sent her piles of books and research into her bedroom. "It's face of the ear--"

"I'm mixing it up."

"Leg of the earth makes no sen--"

"Oh, 'cause the earth has a face?"

"Well--"

"I'm making dinner!" Harry shouted, grabbing the bag from Ron's hand, and then frowned when he looked at them. "What?"

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly.

"Last time you cooked steak, it was bleeding all over the place."

Harry pointed at him, stalking off toward her kitchen. "You said you wanted it rare."

"Yeah, not _alive_. I want to eat my food, not have it eat me."

"I don't think you even chew most the time, Ron. I'm surprised you would even notice if it was under-cooked." Hermione rolled her eyes, making sure there wasn't any more of her research around. She was still recovering from the weirdness of seeing the vision come to life, and she had a feeling that they would be ordering takeout within the hour.

"You shut up, deserter. After weeks of not seeing you _once_ , you have lost the right to make fun of me. You're lucky we knew this would happen, or--"

She looked up from her bedroom door as he cut himself off, and her expression was guilty under his narrowed eyes. She couldn't help it - she was practically _itching_ to dive into her books and maps, and to write out a plan of action. She was happy to see the two of them, but the desire to throw herself back into work was an anxiety pushing up against her skin. She knew she hadn't seen her friends as often as she wanted to, or should have, but her assignment was important. It was beyond _important_ , and she was getting close, and she _needed_ to find it. She could make it up to them afterwards, and they would understand.

"Don't even think about it. We will tie you to the kitchen chair, force feed you Harry's raw steak, and not leave for _weeks_ if-"

"All right, all right! Let's go check on Harry. I missed you." He rolled his eyes at her, grabbed her arm, and tugged her to the kitchen.

**April 3; 10:29pm**

Hermione took a long drink from the beer in front of her and returned her eyes to the note she had received with it ten minutes ago. _Look less like a fucking government goon, and maybe you won't ruin this for me - again._ She had little doubt as to who'd sent over the drink and napkin note, but all her inconspicuous looks showed no sign of him. She had been hoping her trick would have occupied him a lot longer. This was the third time she had been to the Kneipe, catching suspicious groups and harsh whispers, but no clues. It wasn't as important to her now as finding the Oliver Sears she was meant to, but she doubted any of the Olivers would appreciate her presence this late at night. It was better to be here than sitting in her room and waiting.

She glanced up at the businessman near the bar, whispering adamantly to a younger man. The older one ran his hand down his tie, and straightened his jacket, looking around him again. Hermione took another sip of her drink, looking away, and gave it several seconds before chancing another look back. Something was obviously going on, though she had no idea if it was related. If she could get the younger one alone, she might be able to find out. He looked a little younger than her, and while she wasn't very intimidating, she might be able to find out something useful from conversation.

The businessman continued whispering, and then the younger one gave a nod, receiving a pat on the cheek for his agreement. Another well-dressed man approached the other, drawing him away to a staircase. The younger man turned, tucking a small brown box under his arm and making for the door. Hermione followed him with her eyes, buttoning her coat back up, and nearly spat out her mouthful of beer when she finally spotted Malfoy. He was downing the rest of his drink, reaching for his coat with the other hand, with his eyes trained on her over the rim of his glass. Hermione narrowed her eyes as he arched an eyebrow, and hurriedly slid out of the booth as he stood from his table.

He was closer to the door and out of it before she even took a step. She took another swig of her beer, trying to give a discreet look toward the staircase to make sure the other man hadn't noticed two people following the boy. With a smile and nod at the bartender, she left, forcefully calming her steps until the door closed behind her. A small group of people were smoking to her left, so she took a right, eyes scanning as she swung around to the side of the building.

A hand shot out from the dark, surely stopping the blood flow in her arm as it yanked her into the shadows with it. She stumbled over her feet with a sound of surprise in her throat, reaching for her wand. The hand was off of her the second her back hit the wall of the pub.

"How much?"

Hermione squinted through the dark, taking a quick step back, and focused on the white of his eyes. " _Excuse me_?" Where did he get off pulling her around like that? Like he could just--

"I feel a dj vu coming on that I don't care to repeat. Your incompetence, though normally amusing, could be crippling to me in this situation. I don't--"

"Mine? Are you--" She was pretty sure he winced at the rather high tone of her indignation.

"How much for you to stay behind?" he asked in a rush of words, and she snorted.

"More than you have."

"Tr--" She started to walk away but he grabbed her arm again, pulling her back. Hermione yanked herself out of his grasp with a huff of air, smacking his arm, and shoving her finger into his chest to emphasize each word. "Do. Not. Touch. Me! So help you, Malfoy, if--"

"Try me." He smacked her finger away.

"What?"

A rumble of mashed curses escaped on his breath, and he slammed the heel of his palm into her shoulder. She hit the wall hard, her elbow banging off the stone. A little groan of pain escaped her mouth, but turned into a growl within a second. "You...ha! Just...uhgr!"

She stormed after his long strides, not turning her hot glare off the back of his head until she reached the edge of the building. Malfoy was striding purposefully toward what looked like a cellar door, open from the ground, but Hermione peeked around to the back of the pub before taking off after him. She managed to break even with him a few steps from the door, and she kicked her foot out. He tripped over it with a grunt, staggering forward as she took off ahead of him. Sadly, the sound of his pain as he face planted never happened. His fingers ghosted the back of her shirt instead, his breath coming out in an angry hiss, but she practically vaulted the length of the staircase in her escape.

Wine and barrels lined two of the walls, with boxes stacked against the other two. Some were stamped in the name of German beers, but most of them were unmarked and piled high. The boy wasn't in the room, and Hermione headed straight for the door opposite of her. Malfoy hit the landing with a thud of his shoes, his steps mimicking hers but quicker. She threw the door open before he could try anything, and paused at the dimly lit tunnel that greeted her. Small bulbs of light were placed meters apart, evenly spaced, down the straight line. She couldn't see the end of it, but it went so far down that in the far distance, the two bulbs across from one another looked like they were touching each other in the middle.

Malfoy's breath puffed against her ear and it sent her forward a step to get away from it. "We should team up for this, Malfoy. Just for this. We're both going the same place, and we don't know what kind of people might be down here. I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

She was more likely to trust the sharp edge of a knife to not cut her. But if she could fool him into thinking they were a team, and the plant was here, maybe his defenses would be down enough for her to make a run and grab.

"Fine," he practically grunted, shoving his way up beside her.

The tunnel was far too cramped a space to walk side-by-side. His arm brushed her shoulder with every step, and she could hear his other arm brushing the wall like hers was. They were as far from one another as they could be without giving up any ground, but still far too close. She looked annoyed, and she was expecting some look of disgust on his face, but it was perfectly blank.

He smelt it first - the start of the side-tunnel was next to him - but she smelt it the moment he jerked toward it. It smelt like flowers, light and pretty in the strange odor of the tunnel. Flowers, and she was grabbing the back of his shirt before she could even think about it. She yanked it back, digging her feet in, and heard him wheeze a breath. He was still stronger than she gave him credit for, and he dragged her feet two steps before she tripped him.

He caught himself on the wall, grabbing her arm as she went to fly past him, and nearly yanked the thing out of the socket. Hermione yelled out as he threw her back, crashing her half into the wall and the ground. She pushed herself forward, wrapping her hands around his ankle and throwing herself back, ripping his support away. His knee cracked against the stone floor as he fell, and he cursed loud enough to drown out the thump of blood in her ears.

She released his leg as he tried to jerk it out of her grasp, and flung herself forward, her knee punching into the back of his shoulder. He was like a big chunk of uselessness, taking up _all the space_ , with his stupid body and obnoxiously long limbs. He karate chopped her in the back of her kneecap, making her leg give out, and she kicked the other one back, catching something hard.

She grinned as he grunted, shoving herself to her feet and immediately into a run. "Head...balloon head, with your tree arms, and, and...freaky back..."

"Uppish bitch...knee...rip off your fingers _..._ _fucking hair_ like...climbing thr--...bushes..." His hand hit her head when his grip sent her stumbling back into him, and she sent an elbow back into his stomach. She would suffocate him with her hair if she had nothing else. She really, really would.

"What happen--...to partners...Malfoy?" She shoved him in the side when he got next to her, and he bounced off the wall and back into her again. For a second she thought she might suffocate between the pressure of his body and the wall.

She poked him savagely in the ribs instead, and he slammed a hand down on the top of her shoulder, forcing her to hit the ground. He jumped over her arm when she tried to trip him again, and she scrambled to her feet.

"Like I believed you!" he yelled, tearing her hand off his arm, and staggering to the side when she shouldered a space for herself to pass him.

They both tripped over each other's feet, and they hit the ground in a pile of shoving limbs. She was halfway to her feet when he pulled her down again, his palm hitting the tender spot between her collarbones before her back hit the wall. She brought a fist down on his arm, and kicked his calf, but he was running on ahead of her with little more than a huff of air and a growl.

Hermione felt a little animalistic with the sound that clawed up from her chest, and the way she was sprinting after him with her teeth bared, but she figured that was okay. If she went a little barbaric on Malfoy, it wasn't anything he hadn't pushed her to himself. So she sprung at him, like the lion that she was, right onto his Zebra-prey back. _Hah, ha!_ _,_ because victory was _roaring_ , and he fell over gravity and sudden falling weight, right to his hands and knees.

She slammed her way up his back, and dug a knee and her trainer into either of his shoulder blades as she launched herself forward. One foot hit the ground before his palms smacked right above her knees, his fingers clamping, and she flew back. Pain shot up from her knees to her temples as she hit the ground, just catching herself with her hands before her face met the floor. He yanked again, laying her legs out flat, shoving a knee into the small of her back, and then grabbing her arms. He pulled them like they were twigs, and not muscles and bones that were supposed to _obey_ commands. _Her_ commands. They were pulled around her and clamped to her back in a second, and the knee dug deeper as his panting breath hit the back of her ear. Fear, for the first time, began to swell around her frantic heartbeat, and no matter how much she bucked and wiggled, he didn't dislodge.

"Let's get something straight, Granger," he panted.

"If you don't let me go _right now_ , there are several things belonging to your person that will never be straight again."

"Yeah? Go on, then." She could hear the smirk in his voice, and it only angered her more. "There you go. I see this whole fish out of water thing is working well for you."

"I swear to God," she growled.

He huffed a laugh, and pulled her arms tighter, the strain building in her muscles. "Like I give a shit."

She was so stupid to get herself in this position. She should have had her wand drawn the entire time. She should have hexed him back at the side of the pub. Now...she needed a plan. And the only thing she could think of...

"This is physical abuse towards a Ministry employee. If you--"

"This is self-defense, Granger. I had to restrain the _animal_. But I suppose it doesn't matter that you were attacking me as--"

"Of course not. You're Draco Malfoy. Like you--"

"I would remember the position that you're in," he hissed closer to her ear, "before you complete that sent--"

_Plan two_ , and she snapped her head back, meeting his face in a loud thud. The pain was electric across her skull, and she moaned in pain as he made some weird barking/coughing/grunting noise behind her. His grip slackened on her arms and she pulled them away, pushing them under her and shoving up. Her vision was a little foggy, and her head swam in dizzy motions for a moment. She had really thought that would be a lot more damaging to him, and a lot less to her. Was his face made out of frigging stone? What the hell was he, a metal robot?

"Jesus," she gasped, clutching her head and quickly trying to get to her feet.

Malfoy grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled it hard enough for the fabric to tear, but it was the clicking noise echoing out that had her head jerking back. Her hand froze from pulling her wand the rest of the way out, and then everything stopped. Her heart had fallen dead in her chest cavity long enough to be worrying, and Malfoy's hand had stopped yanking on her as well.

The young man from the pub stood several paces in front of them, his gun wavering between Hermione and that _violent robot man-thing_ behind her. The boy said something in German, and Hermione slowly shook her head. She was stuck between putting her hands up, and trying to pull her wand. She didn't know if she could be fast enough.

"I don't speak German. We're not here to hurt anyo-"

"Whatever you're looking for, it's already gone," the boy interrupted, waving his other hand in a circle above his head.

"If you don't know what I'm looking for, how do you know it's gone?" Malfoy asked, his voice strangely muted and clogged. She could feel the waves of anger radiating off of him, but she didn't dare turn her eyes from the man in front of her. If Malfoy wanted so badly to get himself shot, he had better do it when he wasn't hunched over her shoulder.

"People came last week. That's all I need to say. Time for you to leave." "Yes, alr--"

"Like hell. If you--"

"I said, leave."

Hermione got to her feet, her breath shuddering, and looked at Malfoy as he got to his own. Her eyes widened in surprise at the hand covering his nose, and the blood spilling out over his fingers. She was sure she would have several bruises tomorrow, and while she hoped Malfoy did as well, she wasn't the sort of person who could be pleased if she broke his nose. Then again, Harry did deserve some revenge.

"Malfoy, let's go."

"You can do--"

"That's a gun. It shoots--"

"I know what it is!" he snapped, and she wondered if he was ignorant to think magic could stop a bullet from this close.

"Malf--" The amount of hatred in his glare made her stop talking, and he turned swiftly, stalking off the way they had come.

She gave a nervous nod toward the boy, who lowered his gun as she started walking backwards. She tried to keep her breathing even as she turned and walked away from him, her paranoia waiting for a shot to ring out at any second. It built, and built, until the tension made her walk strange. She had had a lot of wands pointed at her throughout her life, but never a gun. There was something even more disturbing about it - a sort of ruin to the Muggle parts of her life that she had always seen as safer for her.

Malfoy was gone when she reached the top of the staircase. She checked to make sure no one was watching, and turned, shaken, for home.

**April 5; 12:03pm**

"Your phone is ringing."

"I know." He didn't even move. "So, what are you studying in mythology, exactly?"

"The goddesses," Hermione said quickly, desperately reaching for something. "I'm currently thinking of including Flora in my paper."

Oliver number five, or Oliver Muggle number two, hadn't even opened the door at first. If it hadn't been for the flowerpots on his porch, she doubted he would have even answered, despite that she had heard him breathing from the other side. It was extremely difficult to question these people when she didn't know exactly what she was looking for. All of them had seemed perfectly normal, answering her questions as she told them she was a neighborhood surveyor, a university student, or that her car had broken down. She had told Oliver two that her Muggle uncle had said he once met a wizard named Oliver Sears, and that he asked her to find him again - she ended up staring at family albums for over two hours.

_This_ Oliver was different. Between his careful breathing on the other side of the door, and the carvings of mythological figures in his flowerpots, she had known. Telling him she was writing a paper on mythology got the door open, and stroking his ego while she pretended her professor raved about Oliver's knowledge had gotten her inside. Now she was left treading carefully toward a goal she wasn't sure on. All she did know was that this man might be the link to where she needed to be, and that the clue could be anything.

Oliver made a clicking sound from the corner of his mouth, like he was riding a horse. "Some argue that she was truly a Greek goddess, and others believe that she was, in fact, the Greek goddess with another name. You can decide for yourself, but I mostly study Greek mythology. Chloris is Flora, or Flora's Greek counterpart, though--"

"Chloris? I heard she was connected to some very interesting plants," Hermione tried, scribbling it down in her notebook.

"Not really." Judging by his pinched face, he didn't appreciate the interruption. "She was married to Zephyrus. I believe the Roman version is Favonius. See, Zeph-- Actually, I have...let's see..."

She watched him walk down along his overflowing shelves, his finger spinning in circles. Judging by all his figurines, knick-knacks, paintings, and odd objects, the man was fairly obsessed with mythology. His musky, cramped living room reminded her of the Lovegoods. It wasn't pleasant.

Oliver moved forward, quickly tapping his cigarette out in an ashtray, and plucking a small figurine from one of the shelves. "Flora. I have a few things of Chloris, but this is the only piece I have where the man insisted I call her Flora. I used to have it in a case, but then I found out it wasn't worth as much as I paid. I was told it was from Italy, but then other people told me German, French, Vietnamese, and I even got American. I was young..."

Hermione stared at the delicate look upon his face, and then down to the small, wooden figure. The closer she walked to it, the tighter he gripped it. He was obviously very possessive of his things. If he hadn't willingly showed her, she would think he was hiding something. Unless he was, and he didn't think she would know. The second he had said _Vietnamese_ , her mind had completely blanked, and came back with only that little object to consume it.

The wood was carved beautifully, small flowers flowing from her long hair, and a bouquet of them clutched in her hands. It was amazingly detailed, but looked nothing like the vase had. Could it really be a coincidence, though - the vision that told her he was the first real clue that would lead her to the Floralis Fati, the Vietnamese antiques, and now this figurine of Flora that might have Vietnamese origins itself.

She had to have it. She didn't know what she could find out from it, and she didn't even know if it definitely was what she was looking for, but she had to know. Oliver turned to place it back on the shelf, and Hermione acted on that want before she even had time to really think about it, which was a very strange thing for Hermione Granger to do. Few times in her life had she ever acted impulsively, and almost all of those times were a life or death situation.

"Are you cooking something?" Hermione asked, quickly hiding her wand, and clearing her throat at the thickness of her voice.

"No, why?" Oliver turned back towards her, confused.

"I smell smoke..." Hermione sniffed at the air, slowly walking toward the doorway that led toward the kitchen and the hallway. She had sent the fire into the hall, followed by the Flame-Freezing Charm. She hoped the distraction would be enough. "Oh, my God!"

"What, _what_?" Oliver asked, rushing past her as she froze in the small doorway. He spoke rapidly in a language she had never heard, his voice high and squeaky as he rushed toward the fire.

Hermione pulled out her wand, casting a Warming Charm on the flames just as he pressed his back against the opposite wall and slid past the fire. He took off running down the hallway as Hermione spread the flames further out along the wall, and then sprinted back to the shelves. Her jittery gaze landed on the ashtray, and she studied the wooden Flora, waving her wand to transfigure the ashtray into a replica. Her body was alive with the hard pulsing of her blood, and her breathing sounded too loud. She decided that if she didn't calm herself, he might be able to tell that she had done all of this, just by hearing her breathe.

She pocketed the real Flora and began running towards the hall to put the fire out. Oliver was back, though, skirting past her, and grabbing her sleeve. "Get out, get out, let's go!"

She followed after him, searching her mind for a good way to get back inside without him getting suspicious. He had a bag thrown over her shoulder, fat with _something_. A long tube was sticking out of the top that she recognized as the same as the things Dean used to store his rolled up drawings in. She used one a couple times for scrolls, and...

If Oliver wasn't freaking out, he might have noticed the very intense look on Hermione's face when he turned towards her. People also used those tubes to store important documents as well. Documents important enough to risk setting yourself on fire in order to retrieve them.

"Shouldn't you try to put it out before it spreads?"

"Wha-- Right. Fire extin-- Kitch--" Oliver was hopping around in his panic before running past her to go back into the house.

Hermione turned with him, wrapping her hand around the tube. "Hurry!" she yelled over the sound of her sliding it from his departing back.

She flipped it up in her hand, hiding it behind her back and pasting a worried expression onto her face, but he didn't turn back around. As soon as he disappeared, she brought the tube in front of her, twisting the cap off. Tipping it into her hand, she felt the suede smoothness of the parchment slip along her palm, and she gripped it carefully. She pushed the tube between her thighs, clamping it in place, and biting the cap between her teeth as she unrolled the parchment.

The edges were darker, giving away an older age, and she was positive on what it was on the second twist of her wrist. She unrolled it all the way, scanning the map as slowly as she dared. A loud banging noise came from inside the house, and she rolled up the parchment, shoving it into the tube. She had to put the fire out before Oliver called in the emergency, and there would be time to study this in her memories later.

Screwing the cap back on, she tossed the tube onto his lawn, as if it had slipped out on its own, and ran inside the house. Oliver was praying to several gods and goddesses - most of whom Hermione had never heard of - and looked to be in the middle of a severe panic attack. She stood in the doorway, slowly shrinking the flames as he continued with the fire extinguisher. He seemed to get louder the smaller it got, as if he found himself winning a great battle.

Hermione extinguished the flames with a wave of her wand, tucking it into her pocket and feeling it jab into Flora. "Thank God," she said breathlessly, though for a completely different reason. "How did that start?"

Oliver was sweating and panting, and his eyes didn't waver from the unburnt wall. "I don't know."

"I'm going to...go. I'll come back in a few days." He only nodded.


	6. Part Six

**April 6; 7:32am**

"Yes, I know I performed magic in front of a Muggle, but it was for the sake of my investigation. I had to distract him in ord--"

Her boss cut her off with a wave of his hand. "All right."

"...All right?"

"You used a transfiguration spell, a fire spell, and then a charm that rendered that fire nothing more than decoration. Nothing damaging or--" He held up a finger, catching a paper airplane above his head. "Sometimes those in the Magical Law Department have to use certain tactics for an assignment. Your spells match with that. Tell me about it in the report. Good work."

Hermione blinked at him as he left his office.

**April 7; 2:59pm**

She had spent hours in the Pensieve, staring at her short memory of the map, coming out of it, and retracing the exact lines on a large board. She had needed to be very careful in making sure that she got it exactly right. She had also needed to watch out for any other visitors to the room, in case they saw what she was working on.

She wouldn't call it lying. She withheld some choice information for the sake of the assignment. She was convinced that her supervisors would think she was getting too far into things that made no sense and wasting time. Or they would think that the rumors _were_ making sense now, and put someone more experienced on it. She was in too deep now to be reassigned, and she was positive that no one else would do it properly. They would end up with Malfoy jumping through time and ruining the world, or Voldemort being resurrected.

She wasn't sure which one was worse. Some days she woke up, convinced she would see the top of that stupid tent. She forgot sometimes, and she didn't know how that could be possible. She would be making tea, and would think about the next thing she had to research, or figure out, in order for them to move forwards in the war. She would tie her trainers really tight in case she would have to run, or walk into the Burrow and fully expect to see Fred popping up behind George, and Lupin and Tonks sitting at the table. She would look at Harry and worry about how it was all going to end, instead of worry about how he was doing now that it had. A lot of times she just had a lot of anxiety, all thick in her bones and chest, and it wasn't until she reminded herself that it was over that she could calm down.

There had been so many years of building up to the war, and then the war itself. Harry, Ron, and herself, always waiting to fight the next thing. It had been peaceful for almost a year now, but she still wasn't completely used to it. It was like she was still expecting Harry to run in and tell her he was back.

Knowing that there might be a plant out there that could bring the dead back to life did not allow her to sleep any better. There was no time for Ministry reassignments, or some other person to come in and try to find it instead. Hermione was getting closer now, and she knew what she was doing. Holding back a little information was okay for something this important, she figured. The only things she had really withheld had been Malfoy, as she didn't need them to find out she had teamed up with him for an assignment. She also left out Astherbey, and the potion she had found and what had happened because of it. While she had told them about the Vietnamese antiques, she had said it was a dead-end, and that it came from a rumor on the list. Hopefully they accepted her magical use for the sake of a Vietnamese Flora figurine.

Hermione rubbed at her headache, spreading out several atlases, and then her copy of the map. Right now what really mattered was finding out what the map was even _of_. Then maybe she could sleep.

**April 25; 3:17am**

A Happy Dance. There were several different versions of it, and they might have even be like snowflakes - no two alike and all that rot. There was a rhythm to happiness, and while some busted out into versions of the Cabbage Patch or the Running Man, Hermione was pretty sure hers was...just hers. Wild arm movements, head rolls, bouncing, and spinning hips. Very few people had the...privilege of watching her look like she was on drugs, or a kid in a house made of candy after eating the entire living room. This was probably a good thing. Spontaneous victory dances were best left for the moments when others around you were also partaking in their own seizure of delight.

The loud banging from her neighbor, on the thin wall that made up a side of both their living rooms, drew her out of her revelry. The almost inhuman pitch to her joy cry faded, but her smile remained as she shoved her hair out of her red face and looked back at the map. _Finally_. After _weeks_ of searching places that maybe, kind of matched up to the borders of her map, she had stumbled upon the truth.

Several books on mythology were laid out on her floor, open to various pages on Flora, Chloris, Favonius, and Zephyrus. The last was what led her in the right direction, as he was believed to have lived somewhere in a place called Thrace. A few books later, she had managed to find a map of ancient Thrace, in the current region of Bulgaria, Greece, and Turkey. The borders had matched almost perfectly, _finallyfinally_.

Her map was far from detailed. There were two lines for what she figured were rivers or roads, a couple zigzags she took as mountains, and that was it. Three locations were marked in simple black circles, with one having an X drawn over it which could have been because it was useless or the most important. That was all she had to go on, but now, she could know. All she had to do was find out which areas were the current places for those dots, and she would be back on track.

She ran to the kitchen, turning a burner on for tea, and ran back to the living room. She piled more books into her arms, tripping over herself before spreading them out in a circle on her floor. _Finally, finally_.

**April 29; 4:29pm**

The cave hadn't been easy to find, even with the map. While the dot had given her the basic area, it wasn't exactly on scale. Thankfully, she had done her research. Some believed Zephyrus to live in a palace with his brother Boreas, and others said that the two of them lived in a cave - separate caves or not, she didn't know. She had read from several books that Boreas lived on Mount Haemus, the modern Balkan Mountains. Since the dot was located in those mountains, she knew there must be _something_ in the area.

She had walked over steep and rough terrain for hours before she found it. The faintest glimmer that could have passed for sunlight in the air, seven miles off from her original estimation. It was heavily warded: distraction spells, chameleon charms, displacement spells, concealment spells, veil charms. She was positive that if she hadn't been looking for that glimmer, and instead was looking for a cave or a building, she would not only have missed it, but would have become very confused, decided she was completely lost, and would have left within seconds.

She tried to take down the enchantments for a half hour before she risked it, and simply stepped through the faint sheen of lighted air. She had to use a lot of willpower to stay on course, but she had made it into the cave almost three hours ago. It wasn't until now that she found anything that went beyond interesting and into useful.

She had to crawl on her hands and knees through the narrow opening, and the top of the tunnel sloped down so far she was almost doing a belly crawl two minutes in. She wasn't sure how long she crawled through the narrow passageway, but at least five minutes passed before she began to contemplate going back. Hermione wasn't normally claustrophobic, but crawling through a small tunnel deep within a cave had her anxiety spiking. She couldn't help but imagine the space collapsing, or getting herself stuck. She had stuck her arm through a slot in the back of a chair when she was little - logic said that if it could go in, it could come out, but a stick of butter and a sprained arm told her different.

Her hands were cut up and sore, and then her forearms from when she had to hunker down. The denim over her knees was thinning, and rocks stabbed against her bones. She had to stop herself from hyperventilating twice, and she lost track of the amount of times she told herself this was a bad idea. The tunnel slowly turned upwards, and by the time she emerged, covered in dirt, it was so steep that she had to grab the ledge and pull herself up and out. If it hadn't been for the top of the cave digging ridges into her back and serving as support, she would have never made it up the incline.

She pulled her wand from between her teeth with a tender hand, pushing her aching muscles to stand. Her breath rushed out, so loud against the cave walls that it sounded like dozens of people breathing at the same time. She swung her wand around, scanning to make sure there were no animals or anything dangerous around her in the dark. She jerked it back toward the space in front of her with a gasp, and sent several orbs of light out of her wand to hover around the room.

It looked like an alter. Carved out of the rock wall, the slab was slanted and perfectly smooth. The wall behind it had been smoothed as well, circling out in the shape of a sun, and contrasting sharply to the ridges, knots, and rough stone around it. There were black and brown stains across the slab, and Hermione was fairly certain it had been used as a sacrificial alter at one time.

As interesting as the sight was, it was the thing on top of it that held most her interest. A long scroll, bound by a red string, sat at the middle of the slab. Hermione walked toward it like it might come alive and eat her if she moved too fast. There were no knives hanging from the ceiling or creepy skeletons to warn her. The room was closed in except for the tunnel she had come from, and a large opening in one of the walls where her light shined out into air. The scroll looked ordinary, but she knew that if someone had gone through so much trouble to hide it, whatever was on the parchment was far from common knowledge.

She picked it up with a burst of excitement, and her fine hairs stood as she felt the smooth coldness against her skin. Something slid inside of the rolled parchment, and Hermione jumped back, thrusting it in front of her as it tipped, expecting a snake or some small animal. Metal clinked off the ground instead, and Hermione brought one of the orbs down, attaching it to the object. She took another step away from it, studying the dark green, curved blade, and the black handle. There were designs in black on the blade, and green on the handle, that she had never seen before. Black onyx formed a band around the top and bottom of the handle, catching the light - but there was no _lightness_ to it. Hermione knew the dagger was Dark the second she looked at it, and some warning was going off so desperately inside of her that her hands were shaking. The very air in the room had changed, and when she heard a distant yell, she jumped so hard she bit her tongue.

There was a scraping sound that continued to grow louder, coming from the small tunnel she had climbed through. Hermione stared at it blankly, her heart thumping so hard that she could feel the blood pulsing behind her eyeballs, and looked back at the dagger. She wanted nothing to do with it, but she also didn't want anyone to get their hands on it either. The yell told her it was a person, and whoever was coming, was coming quick. There wasn't any place to hide the dagger, and she certainly wasn't going to touch it. Stuffing the scroll into her waistband, covering the top with her shirt, she brought her foot back and kicked the knife as hard as she could. It sailed through the opening in the wall, her orb of light going with it, and Hermione stared in shock at her trainer.

A pulsing fog of dark green began to cover the tip, and a high whine came out of her throat as she hurried to toe her trainer off. The fog was eating her shoe. The white was slowly peeling back, a ring of black growing as the rubber and cloth disappeared. The laces, the metal-rimmed holes, and then the hard rubber at the bottom. There was no ash, or smoke - it was just _disappearing_.

Her throat had gone so dry that she had to attempt swallowing four times before she could. She stepped over her trainer, making sure not to touch it, and carefully stepped to the ledge of the room. She spotted her light through the hole in the wall right away, far down and right, illuminating a rock floor, the fallen dagger, and the edge of a lake. Half the blade was submerged, and a green fog was rising from the ink black water. This was all Hermione could process before the scraping noise was right behind her, and she turned, stepping away from the ledge and raising her wand.

Malfoy came shooting out from the tunnel as if he had rockets tied to his feet. His eyes were shocked wide, and she imagined that the fear on his face matched her own. It happened in seconds. Suddenly he was there, running and struggling against something, and heading toward the opening in the wall, as the opening to the tunnel was covered with rock. She had just enough time to scream for him to stop, and then something hit her with all the pressure of sprinting into the side of a house. Hermione screamed as it shoved against her, and then pushed them off the ledge. Malfoy cried out as he realized they were both in a free fall, but Hermione's screaming was not from the unknown, but because she knew what was waiting. The lake and the green fog that ate away at her shoe like acid.

She ran in the air, her arms flailing, as if all that empty space could turn into flooring beneath her feet, or ropes for her to grab onto. She hit the water head first, Malfoy's boot kicking into her temple, and the water swallowing her like the worst of winter. She sailed straight to the bottom, sharp rock cutting into her arms. Her only thoughts were that she wasn't dead yet, and she had to get out as fast as possible before she would be.

She flipped over, pushing off the lake floor, a sharp edge digging in past the sock on her right foot and piercing the skin. She ignored it, kicking her feet and waving her arms until she broke the surface. Gasping in air, she raised her wand above the water, looking for the direction of the fog. Malfoy had already emerged beside her, his entire arm and hand covered in blood.

" _What the fuck_ _!"_ Malfoy yelled, and she found his light already focused on the fog, a few meters away and coming closer.

"Other way, other way!" Hermione yelled, spinning around. "It will eat you!" Which was probably one of the most ridiculous things she had ever said, but it made a very serious sense in her head.

Hermione kicked and stroked violently, swimming harder than she had the summer of her twelfth year, when her friends told her there was a five-headed monster who lived in the lake. It was after her first year at Hogwarts, and the idea seemed very plausible to a very terrified Hermione. Malfoy still passed her, his arms throwing water into her face, and the light from their wands slashing across her vision with every stroke. Any second now, the fog would reach them, and they would disappear like her shoe had. A single kick that wasn't strong enough, a stroke that didn't propel far enough, or a losing battle no matter what - she could swear that it was right at the edges of her toes, and gaining.

The water became shallow enough for her to stand, and she did, sloshing water and slipping over slick rock as she ran. Malfoy almost took a dive in front of her, but caught himself, looking for a moment like he was surfing as his arms spun wildly. His hand smacked her in the forehead in his attempt at balance, and she shoved his arm away from her with a gurgle of noise. Her foot slipped out over the rocks, and she reached out blindly, catching herself on wet fabric. Malfoy grunted instead of having the heart attack she would have expected, but she was pretty sure neither of them could breathe well enough to do anything, beyond reaching the water edge.

The water dwindled to her calves, and then her ankles, and then she was clear. Malfoy was several strides in front of her, his back disappearing into the darkness before a thud echoed out dully, and the pound of his footsteps left the rhythm of hers. She didn't slow her feet, her breathing a deep, gasping noise in her head that burned its way to her lungs. Malfoy's wand was scanning the cave walls, and she knew he must be looking for an exit.

She slowed to a stop, closing her eyes and concentrating, before turning to Disapparate. Her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes snapped open, taking in the darkness around her. She tried again before she was sure they couldn't Apparate. It must have had something to do with the thing that had pushed them. She lit her wand again, bringing her light from the starting point of Malfoy's and swinging it in the opposite direction. She kept glancing back and forth between the two, in case he managed to find an exit from his side but opted not to tell her.

Nothing. She turned toward the water, part of her afraid that the fog would be directly behind her, but it was just reaching the water's edge. She sent a stream of light out across the lake at the same time Malfoy did, both jets exploding into a few seconds of bright light at the other side. Nothing, again. Malfoy cursed, and a loud thudding sound repeated itself several times over her raging breath. Hermione pressed her hand against the cramp in her side, and _oxygen,_ _oxygenoxygen_. She kept her eyes and wand trained on the fog, but it seemed to have stopped when the water did.

She opened her mouth to tell Malfoy this, but he spoke first. "This is...your fault." "Mine? How...so?"  
"Whatever you...did...in that...room."

Hermione's hand snapped toward the parchment in her waistband. It was still there, but it was drenched. She could only hope that it wasn't ruined, or that she could at least get something off of it. She wanted desperately to check, but she wasn't about to let him know what she had.

"You're the...one who brought...that thing...with you!" It was too hard to talk right now. Whatever he said next, she was going to ignore until she caught her breath.

"I didn't do...anything to bring...it on. By the looks of it...you got up there...the same way I did. So...if you didn't trip anything off...in that tunnel...neither did I. What was that...an alter? That you...were standing next to? You..." She followed the line of his wand to the hole they had been shoved out of, and her breathing stopped for a moment like his had. "What _did you do_?"

"I told you! I didn't do anything!" This whole thing was probably her fault, but she wasn't going to admit that to him.

Everything had started when she picked up that scroll. Removing it must have set something off - some type of enchantment or curse. If they hadn't been in line with that ledge, they would have likely been smashed into the wall. In fact, the hole might have been there because someone else had met a worse fate. And then that dagger...

"Shit, _fuckshit_!" Malfoy yelled, and the sound of his shoe slamming into rock echoed out around them.

Great. _Fantastic_. She was trapped in a cave with a killer green fog, and a crazed Malfoy. Wasn't life supposed to get easier after a war? Shouldn't she be sipping on a fruity drink in warm climates, or drinking tea with a good book for the rest of her life? Whatever sort of life she had earned, she was pretty sure it shouldn't include Malfoy sending her sardonic looks from the other side of a cave.

He turned away from her, his gait rigid as he angrily yanked his cloak off and started feeling along the wall. The fog still hadn't moved closer, but it hadn't moved any farther away either. The enchantment must have blocked all exits to prevent the scroll-holder from getting out. It must have also put a stop to any spells that could assist them, judging by the long list of destructive spells and charms Malfoy was running through with no outcome. Hermione tried some of her own, starting with counter-spells to all sealing and binding spells she knew. She moved on to small burrowing spells in an attempt to prevent the cave from falling in, and five minutes later she found herself hurling blasting curses at the walls.

She curled her fingers, pressing her forehead to the rock, and closing her eyes. She had to get out of here. She had survived a war - she absolutely refused to die of starvation, in the mountains of Bulgaria, with Draco-frigging-Malfoy. She opened her eyes, squinting over to where she had last seen him. She would eat him first, she figured. He was bigger and would need more to survive, and judging by the blood, he was more injured than she was.

She was just beginning to wonder how well bone could chip away at rock when something fell from the ceiling. Hermione's eyes darted upward and she turned, locating Malfoy on a... "You have a broom?"

He was holding his wand between his teeth, his arms raised above his head and his fingers digging at a section of the roof. There was still blood on his arms, and she could see dark red on the side of his neck. He winced at the high pitch to her voice, and his hand was covered in dirt when he used his arm to shove the wet fringe out of his eyes. She never thought he would have it in him - getting his hands dirty.

"No, this is just an illusion charm to make it appear like I'm sitting on a broom, when _really_ I'm hovering in the sky all by myself," he snapped.

She scowled at him, realizing that he must have had it under a reduction charm in his pocket. As if she shouldn't find it surprising when he was suddenly riding on a broom. Like she should know that he was some weirdo who kept a broom in his pocket. She wondered if it was a new habit. She was sure he would have preferred to be riding on his own broom out of the Room of Requirement instead of having to live, knowing Harry Potter saved his life.

Weren't people supposed to change after something like that? From what Harry told her, and judging from Malfoy's reluctance to name them at his house, Draco Malfoy had made a pretty terrible Death Eater. His own side had turned against him in the end - she still remembered the Death Eater he had been trying to convince not to kill him. So then to be saved by Harry _twice_ , and to have his family switch allegiance in the end, you would think he would start being a decent person. Maybe open a shelter for lost house elves or something.

Hermione laughed at the thought, and Malfoy slowly turned his head toward her. He gave her a look like she might start throwing rocks at him while calling them beautiful butterflies, and then began digging harder at the ceiling. "Is that rock, or--"

"Is that what you have for a brain? Do you honestly think I would be sitting up here, digging at rock with my fingers?" He sounded exasperated, as if she had been asking questions for an hour now.

She pursed her lips at him and sniffed. "I've never seen enough intelligence from you to think you wouldn't try something so--"

"That proves more about your own... _intelligence_ , than it does mine. When I get out of here, and you're left to rot while pondering stupid questions, at least you'll know the world didn't lose anything useful."

There was a stone, right next to her foot. And if she threw it a little to the left, and _really_ hard... "When I get out of here, and you're left to ponder your life, at least you'll--"

"Good luck getting out when you're just standing there like a mar on my life," he spat, punching the patch of earth he had found. Yeah, because his fist was going to go right through all that hard, compact dirt.

Hermione glared at him before looking around her. She needed something hard - preferably a pick, or a shovel, or... She looked out over the lake, and then glanced back up at Malfoy. The dagger had eaten through her shoe, and had also covered the water with that same fog, but the water hadn't disappeared. Neither, she realized, had the scroll. The cave floor also hadn't disappeared under it. Maybe it was only objects outside of nature that it did that to...but then the scroll would have been eaten by it. Unless there was something on the scroll that prevented it from doing so.

She began to walk around the edges of the lake, careful not to get too close to the water or the fog. There was no telling if Malfoy would be able to break through the dirt before they starved, or at all. That patch of earth could have gone a mile up, for all she knew. Trying to break through it with just his fingers would be impossible, or very time consuming. If he did, there was no way of knowing if he would decide to take her out with him either. She figured he owed it, but she doubted that he thought the same.

The dagger, though - if it didn't eat the dirt away, it was a still a tool that would get them through a lot quicker than his hands. She had to find a way to hold it without the Dark Magic touching her, and there was no way she was holding it until she was sure it was safe to. Maybe if she wrapped the scroll around the handle...but that might ruin the scroll more than the impromptu swim, and it would also reveal it to Malfoy. There had to be _some_ way. What good was a dagger that no one could use?

Malfoy was still completely focused on the ceiling when she reached the dagger. A strand of her hair was the first to go, but the pebble she carefully dropped on the blade had no reaction. She reached into her pocket, feeling along the thick square of her replica map, and tearing a corner off. The paper disappeared in seconds. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she looked up at Malfoy again to make sure he was still distracted. He had taken to muttering to himself, and had gotten a rock from somewhere, scraping at the dirt. Reaching under her shirt, she stared at his back, and tore a very small piece from the edge of the scroll. She touched the tip to the blade, and flung her hand away from it when the fog came up again.

Hermione dug her fists into her hips, scowling at the Dark object. It had definitely been inside the scroll, and if it hadn't burned it then... Glancing at Malfoy, she turned her back to him, pulling the scroll from her waistband. There was a crease in the middle of it from where it had bent, and she handled the wet parchment softly. There was no sort of lining inside, or anything that would have prevented it from touching the parchment. She had felt it slide out along it anyway, without destroying it, so there had either been a charm that ended once it had fallen out or... Hermione fingered the red velvet ribbon tied around the scroll, double knotted.

A sharp bang behind her had her feverishly rolling the ribbon down and stuffing the scroll into her waistband once it cleared. She pulled her shirt over it again, glancing over her shoulder towards Malfoy. He was stabbing the ceiling with the rock in fast strokes, and the side of his face showed him completely concentrated on the task. Hermione turned back towards the dagger, squatting down, the scroll crinkling under the pressure of her jeans. She lowered an end of the ribbon onto the dagger, her fingers flinching in preparation of a fast retreat.

Nothing happened. Hermione released her breath, squinted at the dagger, and pushed more of the ribbon onto it. The ribbon must have had some sort of protection spell on it. She tapped her free fingers on her knee and bit her lip in thought. Since it had been wrapped around the scroll, it must have protected whatever was in the boundaries of the ribbon from the Dark Magic on the dagger.

Tearing another piece off of her replica map, she folded it over the ribbon and lowered it down to the dagger. She tried a strand of her hair again, the quill in her pocket, and then pulled the ribbon over the four fingers of her right hand. She touched the tip of her only shoe to the dagger, preparing herself to toe it off quickly if she needed to. Still, nothing happened.

Apparently, if the ribbon was on her, nothing on her person could be affected. She wished she could pull off a little patch of her skin to be absolutely sure. This was as good as it got though, and it looked to be the only way they might get out of this, so she started small. If it started to destroy her pinkie, she could always spear it off with her quill before it got to her hand. She didn't really need her pinkie anyway, and she was pretty sure this would work.

She had to fight not to close her eyes as she shoved the ribbon down onto her wrist and reached out a hesitant left pinkie to touch the dagger. Her face was pulled into a grimace as she stared down to where her skin met the Dark object. There was a buzz of magic jolting up to her knuckle, but no fog, or pain, or disappearing digit. She took the final step, reaching down with her right hand, and wrapping it fully around the handle. She gasped as the buzzing swelled through her hand, stopping at her wrist, around the ribbon.

Oh, but she didn't like this. She didn't like this _at all_. Hermione had never been one for Dark Magic, and where some people might be feeling a sense of power in this moment, she only felt caution and revulsion. As soon as she was done carving out an exit, this thing was going deep into that lake to hopefully never be found again.

She held it far from her as she walked back around the lake, watching the fog begin to dissipate. She made sure the scroll wasn't showing, and continued to walk closer to Malfoy. His bleeding had stopped, she noticed. He had probably injured himself in the fall, or when that force was pushing him up the jagged tunnel. It had been hard enough to crawl through it, but Hermione would have been terrified had something been shoving her through at that speed. In hindsight, his face had been _priceless_.

"I have a proposal, Malfoy."

"This isn't where you tell me that you've secretly been in love with me since third year, is it? While this is undoubtedly amusing, I wouldn't even accept the nightmare of marrying you if it meant some greater being making all my dreams come true for the sacrifice."

Hermione scowled at him, thinking far too evil thoughts when she was holding a Dark dagger in her hand. "I would rather burn in hell with your friends," she bit.

"Really?" he drawled, but the tightness to his mouth showed the dig on his friends angered him more than his casual tone would suggest. "Can I have the pleasure of sending you there myself?"

"Like you could! I would have you on your back in a second, begging me to--"

"Merlin, Granger - save me the bloody details. First a proposal, and now you're talking about having me on my back and begging? Whatever disgusting--"

Hermione's face flamed. "That is not what I meant! I would _obviously. Never._ _Ever_ think--"  
"If there's a point beyond your obsession with me, why not get to it before I vomit?"

"For your information, _Malfoy_ ," she spat his name, her hands shaking with anger, and her face bright with embarrassment. "I would...would sooner...with a _troll_ than even _think_ of _you_ in that--"

"What kind of perverted shit are you into? A _troll_? Wh--"

"Stop twisting my words, you sicko!"

"I'm not twisting anything!" He shot his hands out to either side of his head. " _You're_ the one who is talking about trolls, Granger. Though I suppose-- What is that?" His question was very quiet compared to the rest of what he had been saying, and his eyes were in line with her hand.

She almost hid the dagger behind her back before she remembered he had to see it anyway. "Part of the deal."

His eyes flashed to hers, and he studied her so closely that she moved her eyes to his forehead. She didn't know if he was a Legilimens or not, but he had had a close relationship with Snape, and she wasn't about to risk anything. "What deal?" he asked.

"This is going to get us out of here a lot quicker than your hands - if you could manage to dig a hole with just your hands at all. I doubt you were planning on bringing me out with you, and I obviously would not be able to reach the exit without a broom, seeing as how we can't use much magic in here." She had already tried several levitation and transfiguration spells, but her wand had been rendered practically useless. "I'll get on to the broom with you, do the work of carving out an exit, and you'll fly us both out of here. _Or_ you can continue trying to dig out until your fingers are nubs."

He wrapped his left hand around his broom and stared down at her. It wasn't like she wanted to get on there with him either, but she didn't have a choice. If he tried pushing her off, she would bring him down with her in a second. "I'll carve out the hole."

"I'm not stupid, Malfoy. I'm not going to give it to--"

"Where did you find that, Granger?" His tone was soft, but accusing, and there was something to it that almost made her take a step back. It was too smooth. A calm, soothing tone before the strike. "I can feel the Dark Magic from here. Thought you played on the side with rainbows, and unicorns, and _Expelliarmus_."

"That's none of your business. De--"

"I think it is. In fact, I'm betting that had something to do with the fog I swam for my life from, _which_ ," he drew the word out, pointing his wand towards the lake before letting it settle on his leg again, "is now gone. Funny, that. Would it also happen to be the reason I was flying like a fucking Bludger through a mile's worth of sharp, pointed rock?"

"Doubtful." Completely probable. "Deal or not, ferret?"

He looked at her for a moment, and then his eyes drifted down toward the dagger. If he tried to grab it from her, he would be dead sorry, and literally at that. Maybe he knew he couldn't touch it - he probably grew up around Dark Magic and its objects. Then again, he might think that if a _Mudblood_ could touch it and be all right, then a pure-blood would as well. His funeral.

"I'm not going to stab you, for God's sake. Deal or not?"

"I might have believed that a year ago, but that was before you were going about playing with Dark Magic. No wizard or witch of the Light could be called such when they're messing around with that, best friend to...Potter or not."

As small as it seemed, it might have been the first time Malfoy ever acknowledged her as a witch, or refrained from insulting Harry. She stared at him for several seconds, and he looked cocky, as if his point had blown her mind or something. Tough luck, that.

"I'm not playing around with Dark Magic, and I'm only using this as a necessity, and obviously without dark intentions. So you can keep being a coward, and we can starve to death, or you can get down here so we can hurry up to never seeing each other again." She was initially going to rant about how much of an idiot he was as well, but playing it nice _enough_ might speed up this process. She didn't want to hurt his precious feelings too much, or he might have to go and sulk for hours.

"Promises, promises. And a coward? You don't self-analyze, do you? Explains quite a bit. If I were standing there, and holding that dagger, you wouldn't come within _throwing_ distance of me. What does that make you?"

"Smart," she threw back. "Do you know the difference between you holding this, or me?"

He looked at her for too long, and then released the rock he had been holding, letting it fall to the cave floor with a sharp clink and thud. His fingers twisted around the broom, and he scooted up, shooting her a glare. "I know what you think the difference is. I bet that's why you were sorted into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. Book smart, but no common fucking sense."

"What? I was sorted into Gryffindor because--"

"I don't care. It's bad enough I have to know you, I certainly don't want to know _about_ you."

She glared at him as he pushed the broom down and leaned forward, sloping down toward her. "The feeling is mutual."

"Wonderful. Let's get this over with - and don't touch me."

"Of course not. I don't like getting sick."

He jerked his head to the side, looking at her over his shoulder, as she threw a leg over the broom. "So help you, if you puke on me."

She looked up towards the ceiling with a stretch to her lips, and sighed longingly, as if daydreaming of it. He grunted like some ape and brought them up to the ceiling. Hermione tried not to give away her fear in this situation. Between holding the dagger, riding on a broom with _Malfoy_ , and hovering up in the air, she was very far removed from her comfort zone. She had such a death grip on the space of the broom between Malfoy and herself that she was surprised it wasn't splintering under her hand. If he tried anything, she was going to punch him in the back of the head.

It looked like a kitten had been scratching at a hill. There were a few shallow grooves from his fingers and some shallow holes from perhaps the rock. He had made as much progress as a first day recovering alcoholic trapped in a stocked pub. Good effort, but barely noticeable, and ending on a sad note.

The blade sliced through like it was butter, or cream, or absolutely any comparison between something ridiculously sharp with something ridiculously soft. It hadn't even looked that sharp, but maybe it was the magic in it, or Hermione severely underestimating the blade, or the packed earth it was sliding through. She slid the blade to the hilt, bringing it around in a circle. Chunks of dirt began to fall on top of her and the end of the broom, and Malfoy moved up to avoid getting hit by it. As if he wasn't already dirty and gross or something.

"Move back some, I can't--"

"If you move your fat arse back any more, we're going to go arse over elbows i--"

She had to curl her fist halfway to his head to stop herself from doing _something_. Punching, or smacking, or pulling - all she knew was that she wanted to do it very _badly_. Not being mistaken for a telephone poll like Pansy Parkinson should not earn her the title of a _fat arse_. It-- "Isn't _my_ fault you're weak and can't keep a broom straight!"

"If you weren't holding a knife--" he started to growl. "I would still beat you!"  
"Yeah? Is that how it turned out at the pub in--" "Please. You caught me off guard."

He snorted. "That it? Does it help you, all that lying to yourself?"

"Just move the broom back so I can reach! Who cares if you get a little dirt on--" She cut herself off when he jerked the broom back, and she had to death grip it again to keep from falling off. "Jerk."

She sliced in wide circles, moving in towards the center slowly, and loosening up the dirt. It rained down from the ceiling in sheets and giant clumps, and when her arm got tired, she slashed at the earth violently. With every small break to shake out her hair and rest her arm, Malfoy would give some impatient sigh. With every time she started back up again, she hoped just the next slash would expose the sunlight -- the next one, _just this next one_.

"How did you find out about this place anyway?"

He was silent for a couple of seconds, and she didn't think he was going to answer. "You first."

She huffed an exhale from her nose. That question was obviously not going to be answered. "Fine."

"It's interesting, though. Almost all the places I've had the unfortunate timing to meet you in have only been discussed in certain circles. That, and your new weapon of choice... Is Potter's Golden Girl hanging out with a _bad crowd_? I'm sure you got into it for all the right reasons, though, hm, Granger? You probably justify straddling that line by--"

"I really don't need the insight into your poor assumptions, Malfoy. I've already seen them in--"

"It's suspicious, Granger. I wonder if the Ministry knows what you're up to? Or Potter and... _the other one_."

Hermione paused, her arm smacking down once all the willpower to ignore the strain had gone. "Are you threatening me?"

"If I am?"

She blinked at the back of his shoulder. "What are you going to do? Tell them I worked with you to get information out of an antique shop? They wouldn't approve, but they aren't going to do anything horrible about it. The most would be taking me off the assignment. But exposing yourself as well?"

"I haven't done anything illegal. Your--"

"You think the Ministry would want you trying to find it anyway? Illegal or not, they would stop you."

"Fuck, Granger. Did the war break your moral compass? You're talking about abuse of power like it's a school trip to Hogsmeade."

"Neither myself or the Ministry have much of a moral compass for Death Eaters, who have none of their own. I'm not naive - all governments are corrupt. The new Ministry a whole lot less than it was under your-"

"I'm aware of your government, twit. If I didn't think it would be detrimental to myself as well, I would have turned you in the second I left the antique place." He said it almost flippantly, as if there could have been no other train of thought concerning it and everyone knew that.

"Any trick or manipulation to get ahead, right? You're--"

"You should know," he growled, looking over his shoulder at her. "Don't act like you haven't played this game, Granger, or considered turning me in yourself. We both know better, and as much as you want to lie to yourself, to keep feeling like you're so much better than everyone else, you can't lie to me. I know--"

" _Excuse me_? I do _not_ \--"

"Just shut up and keep digging, or I'm going to take that dagger, throw you off of

the broom, and dig myself out."

"Go ahead and try!" They both sneered at one another until he turned back around, and she returned her attention to the ceiling. What a completely arrogant, brainless, wrong, self-centered dolt of a person! She just wanted to take something small and sharp like a needle and stab him with it in the back of his stupid, pointy ear.

Lie to herself to make her feel better than everyone else? _Was he out of his mind_ _?_ There must be a certain level of delusion, madness, and overall mental instability to do something like join the Death Eaters, she knew that. But Malfoy was out of his mind, and a complete hypocrite. She acted like that? Coming from _him_?

"Ha!" she yelled, shooting him a glare as he jumped at the sudden noise.

He slowly turned his head to give her a sharp look from the corner of his eye, and she returned it before resuming her slashing. The physical labor alleviated much of her aggravation, and it helped that Malfoy kept his silence. She might have also flung a little extra dirt towards the back of his head, but there was no proving that. It was only fair, considering that she was slick with sweat and covered in streaks of dirt. Her entire right arm looked like she had shoved it to the shoulder in a hill of mud. Chunks of dirt kept falling down her sleeve and the neck of her shirt, and she could feel it trapped in her bra and stuck to her skin. If Malfoy said a word about it, she didn't know if she could stop herself from violence again.

Malfoy had to push the front of the broom down to raise up the back, so she could push herself up into the hole. She was shoulder deep, with her arm stretched up, before the dagger broke into air. Malfoy stopped his annoyed and angry sounds at the amount of dirt that was falling on him when she broke into a chorus of _yes, yes, yes_.

"Do you have it, then?"

"Yes, yes, yes," she continued.

"About time. I--" He was cut off by a rather large amount of dirt falling on top of his head, _accidentally_. He whipped around to look at her, swaying the broom, and she hid her smile by looking up at the patch of dark air.

She didn't know what time it was, but it must have been late since she couldn't see a thing but darkness. She was half-expecting the curse she had activated to close up the hole, her tired arm energized at the thought, but it kept getting bigger. Malfoy might have to tuck his shoulders around to fit, and there was no telling if his giant head would make it. At least she had tried, but there's nothing to be done for ego.

"All right, let's go."

Malfoy lowered them down, and then flew in tight half-circle to get a better angle for the exit. Hermione waited until he turned upward before throwing the dagger as hard as she could towards the lake. The buzzing sensation immediately stopped, making her arm feel even more tired, but she gripped the handle hard as they sailed up through the hole. He grunted as his shoulders banged off the edges, before tucking them in, and she would have grinned had dirt not been flying back into her face.

He brought them just a meter from the hole before landing, his feet catching grass. Hermione's legs were much shorter than the blond's, the tips of her toes and trainer just skimming the top of the grass when he took his magic out of the broom. If she hadn't been expecting his complete thoughtlessness to her person, she would have landed on her bum. She staggered instead, catching herself with a glare to his back, and trying a _Scourgify_. Blissfully, it worked, but she was still in need of a very long shower. Maybe even a shower and then a bath, and then maybe another shower. The dirt wasn't the only thing making her feel dirty.

She turned back towards the hole, casting light on it with a frown. What could she use to close it up? Maybe a-- The hole refilled itself at the same moment that something brushed her bum. And it couldn't have even been _something_ , but _someone_. When she turned to look at him, he was righting his newly clean person, tucking his reduced broom into his pocket and easing a wrinkle in his shirt. It had been accidental, of course, but shouldn't he be gagging right now or something? She felt weird, and a little violated. The adult part of her wanted to recognize it as a freak accident and ignore it, and the childish part of her wanted to yell 'gross' and spray away the 'cooties'.

She took the middle ground by wrinkling her nose and giving a bored look to her now-black sock. "Well...that was unpleasant."

"Unpleasant is burnt toast. Whatever that was, it was a lot worse." She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already gone.


	7. Part Seven

**April 30; 10:30am**

Hermione pressed against the corners of the map, watching the writing appear again in the morning sun. When she had gotten home last night, she had thought the water might have erased everything from the scroll. She had tried several different spells to no effect, and it wasn't until she had been on the edges of sleep in her bed that she remembered the alter. The sun had been smoothed into the rough wall, and as soon as she'd woken up, she had thrown open the window to sunlight and watched the map reappear.

At least Malfoy hadn't gotten this one. After finding the scroll blank last night, she had checked her pockets before getting in the shower. The _accidental brushing_ of her bum had been far less accident and far more _thievery_. She had been so out of it, and so busy thinking about their escape, and hiding the sound of the scroll crinkling, that it hadn't registered. When she had turned to face their exit, he must have spotted the replica map poking out from her pocket and swiped it.

It couldn't have worked out better if she had planned it. Losing the map wouldn't have been a problem since she had the memory of it and the other two places marked on it. The problem would have been someone else finding out what those places were. Thankfully, Hermione had charmed the map to change into one of Africa without the proper revealing spell. Malfoy might figure it out, or he might go off to a city and a small village in Africa. She sincerely wished for the latter, as it would only serve him right, and perhaps she'd get too far ahead for him to catch up.

If he did find out the correct revealing spell, she wasn't too worried. The map she had found in the cave was a more completed and sophisticated version of the one she had copied from Oliver. Only one of the two locations on the crude map, besides the cave, was on the new one - the one that hadn't had the X over it. She would go to the other location before Malfoy could get there, and then move on.

There were six locations marked on the map, and one of them was the cave she had been to last night. All she had to do was find the current places for the other five, and then maybe she could get something solid before she got any deeper in this mess. She was hesitant to trust the map, especially with what she had found inside of it, but the vision had led her here. Hopefully the map would lead her to the plant. There was a strange symbol in the corner that had also been on the original of the other, but she hadn't found it in all the books she dug through. She was guessing it was some sort of signature for a person or a group.

"Strymon, Opizum, Heraum, Pan-- Great, more mountains."

**May 2; 9:09pm**

Harry looked miserable. It was evident in the slouch of his shoulders and the way he kept staring at where he had been standing one year ago. Ron's chest was puffed out so much, he might explode any compliment now. Neville was excitedly recounting, for perhaps the thousandth time, his moment in front of Voldemort. Luna was staring dazedly at a bouquet on the table. Ginny was trying to convince Headmistress McGonagall to let the battle-participant students stay past midnight, and several of their friends were weaving their way through the crowd in the middle of the room.

Hermione, for her part, was sitting next to the miserable Harry, drinking another glass of champagne, and staring at an uncomfortable spot near the Great Hall doors. Up until now, she had been wondering how she was supposed to feel at all, and contemplating if time had seemed too fast or too slow. That was until nearly half the room seemed to take a general heave towards the front of the Hall, exposing two sets of platinum hair and a lot of awkwardness.

"I didn't invite them." Harry shrugged, when she looked over at him.

"Why would they be invited?"

Harry folded his napkin, the only thing that had kept his hands busy for the past two hours. If the napkin wasn't there, she figured he would have soared past Tipsy and straight into Hide From The Public at least an hour ago. He shrugged again, reaching up to rub his cheek and fix his glasses.

"She saved my life."

Hermione blinked at Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, looked at her drink, and then over to Harry. "There's no knowing if you would have defeated him then--"

"It doesn't matter. She could have-- How many times--"

"I'm just saying that doing something good for your own gain isn't really something _good_. I don't think it warrants you an invitation to the One Year Victory Ball because she changed her mind for ten minutes after like forty years."

Harry leaned back in his chair, reaching over to steal her champagne and gulp down the last few sips. "She was trying to find her son. How does that make it bad? That's what they say anyway... But I've wondered - if she had said I was alive, knowing Voldemort would have cast the Curse in a second and really killed me, they would have gone into Hogwarts anyway. Like he did when he thought I was dead...it would have been the same if I had been. She would have found Malfoy just as quickly."

"Unless she figured you were invincible--"

"Then why would I be laying there playing dead? She could have gone either way with the same result. She chose to help me. When she and Lucius got in there, their only concern was to find their son. They didn't give a shit anymore. I think she wanted it to be over. I think she wanted me to win. I think Malfoy did too."

Hermione went from contemplation to amusement. "What?"

"Why else didn't he name us at his house? Especially me. His family was in disgrace, and having me would have brought them back. But Malfoy didn't care. He lowered his wand, on the Tower. I told you that. The only reason he was there was because Voldemort would have killed him and his family if he didn't do it. He tortured people under the same threat. And in the Room of Requirement, he told them not to kill u--"

"Because Voldemort wanted you alive, Ha--"

"That's what they said, but when Crabbe cast the Curse at you, Malfoy pulled him and said not to kill me...despite that the Curse wasn't even aimed for me. He didn't want them to kill any of us, though it didn't matter to Voldemort if they killed you and Ron. I'm not saying I like him, or that he's a good bloke. I'm just saying that I don't know what all that makes him."

"So maybe he wasn't evil enough to be a good Death Eater. He's still racist, and if you remember, they had been waiting there to capture you and bring you to Vol--"

"In the Room of Hidden Things? A room that only appears when the person wants to hide something? Malfoy didn't have anything to hide, so--"

"He could have thought you were hiding in there."

Harry grabbed two glasses of champagne off a passing tray, thought about it, and grabbed two more. "I don't know. I..."

Harry thought too much - about everything. As if the war had ended badly for them, and he was retracing it all to see what he should have done differently. Maybe it was his way of dealing with the warl, and the major change in his life after. It hadn't been until the last few months that she had heard him talk more than she had seen him think.

The Malfoy thing had started earlier, before the war had even ended. She thought Harry felt sorry for him, but Hermione didn't really understand why. Yes, he hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore, and he had been reluctant to identify them at Malfoy Manor. That didn't exactly mean he was redeemed for the choices he made. He could have gone to Dumbledore earlier. Who knows if he hadn't gotten used to torturing people after that vision Harry saw - who knew if he didn't enjoy it after. It was all guessing, and while Hermione didn't think he was evil, she didn't think he was a good person either.

"I think you've thought too much about everything that happened. It's over now. We're moving on...right?" She might have sounded like she needed the confirmation too badly.

"Right." He might have sounded like he was the one who felt like asking.

"We need to find hobbies. I--"

"I have a hobby." Harry grinned, standing up as he watched Ginny approach them. He moved towards the redhead, and glanced back at Hermione with his eyebrows raised, the grin turning rather wicked. He seemed to forget that she wasn't one of the guys and really didn't need to know about those sort of hobbies from him.

Gross.

"You should come and dance with me, before the papers print that you're an alcoholic now."

"Skeeter would be beside herself," Hermione muttered, giving Neville a smile, and finding his eyes locked on something ahead of them.

She knew before she looked, turning her head to meet Malfoy's eyes. It felt familiar, and yet very strange to see him in the Great Hall again. He looked a lot less lost than the last time she had seen him here, but just as unapproachable. The Malfoys had looked like victims of a natural disaster a year ago, huddled together at the end of a far table. She would have expected them to go into hiding, but they had stayed, in a state of miserable shock.

Malfoy and his mother looked less like they belonged now than they did then. They were perfectly put together, their clothing dark and immaculate on the rigid set of their bodies. They still stood alone, silent and observant, with awkward, blank faces. They were likely only here as an attempt to restore their name in society, but Hermione thought it would need more than an appearance at a victory celebration. More like a decade worth of good deeds, a name change, and a miracle.

The only good thing about Malfoy being here was that she knew where he was. He couldn't find the plant anymore than she could right now. Tonight, she would celebrate life, and sacrifice, and an end to war. She doubted he was celebrating anything, but as long as he mourned far away from her, it would be just fine. She watched him hand a glass of champagne to his mother, bending his head to whisper something, and then glancing over at her again. He raised an eyebrow at her in acknowledgment, and she mirrored it before turning back towards Neville.

"Dance?"

"Yeah."

**11:38pm**

From the distance, with the moon behind the clouds, she had thought he was a new statue with how still he was. When the moon cleared, she saw his face and lifted her own towards the sky to see what he was looking at. The Astronomy Tower met her sight, and she automatically brought her gaze down, tracing a path to a spot on the ground and remembering.

She hated them. She hated who they were, what they had done, and how they had dirtied this place. She had once looked at Hogwarts as a symbol for all the wonderful things in her life. Now she couldn't stop looking and hating what it reminded her of.

"I was thinki--" If it were possible to jump out of your bones, Hermione would have just done it.

"Jesus!" she yelled. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Malfoy looked entirely too amused when she was wearing such pointy shoes. "I'm at least ten meters away from you. How is that sneaking up on you? Scare eas--"

"You were all the way over there just a moment ago. You--"

"Watching me?"

"Stalking me?"

"I would rather cut my finger and force myself to slowly bleed out."

"What a waste of all that blood, Malfoy. At least make sure you bleed into a bucket or something, so your mother can donate it."

"Trying to get your hands on some pure blood, Granger?" "I would rather--"

"Shag a troll? I know."

_Oh_ , but if she threw her shoe _just so_... "You're disgusting."

"Your fantasy, Granger. Though I'm glad you finally seem to be acknowledging

these things about yourself."

"What I ackn--"

"I see you've turned into a bit of a lush as well. Had to be nearly a dozen empty flutes around you earlier. I would ask if you were troubled, but we already know that answer, don't we?" He was walking closer to her, his hands shoved in his pockets. By the strange tilted way he was walking, she hadn't been the lush tonight.

"I'm not the drunk one here."

"Then you're one of the few sober ones. And after that much champagne? Tolerance of an alcoholic, Granger. I'm sure someone out there is impressed."

She rolled her eyes, looking out towards the lake, but watching him from the corner of her eye. He stopped walking several paces from her, which was good, because his presence was uncomfortable enough. "Is there a reason--"

"Tell me something, Granger..." "Fat chance," she muttered.

"The vase - you?"

She had to think for a second, because it felt like ages ago since she could know what that meant in a second. "No."

"Sure. The Apothecary?"

She had to stop herself from smirking. "Certainly not."

"And yet you seem to know what I'm asking with that limited information." He was looking at her like a potion that he had done perfectly right, but which was still coming out badly.

"Some people have _brains_ ," she said slowly. "You'll understand one day."

"Ah, yes. Granger, with all those 'brains', but whose map of Africa turns into one

of Thrace with the simplest incantation."

"It was useless--"

"Fitting, that."

"--the cave, but Macedonia and the Strymon, or Struma, river was another nothing." If he hadn't already gone, her saying it was a dead end wouldn't stop him.

"Was it? You don't look very hard, do you?" Her head snapped towards him, and the stupid smirk on his face.

"You're lying."

"Yeah?" He rocked on his feet, trying to look careless, but he was too stiff to pull it off. "You look anxious, Granger. Going over it in your head, better places to be, or do I make you nervous?"

She laughed at him, and he looked angry for a few seconds, before he smirked. He looked over her head, hummed to himself, and turned back towards the castle. Hermione watched him, frantically covering bases in her head. It couldn't have been the plant. It obviously wasn't the plant - right? Anything else she could handle, but not that, and not with him.

Ugh, she knew she should have followed that guy with the scarf, and put a more complicated charm on the map. She should have... _Mind games_. Of course he was playing mind games with her. Ha! Like she would fall for that. Get under her skin, and... But she _did_ check that other room in that cottage near the river, right? She hadn't skipped over it? Did she skip over it? She walked down the hall, and then she--

"Hermione."

She looked up towards the doors, and couldn't help but grin as Harry and Ron stared back at her. Ron waved her forward with a hurried rush to his hand, while Harry smiled back at her. "Dean wants to make a toast."

"What were you doing out here anyway?"

"Thinking. You know."

"We came out of the Great Hall..." Ron trailed off, looking over at Harry with a laugh. "We automatically started walking toward the library to find you."

"Instinct," Harry laughed, grabbing her wrist as Ron threw an arm over her shoulder. "If someone was looking for you, and they didn't search the library first, they didn't know you very well."

"Even Dumbledore knew to look for you there--"

"Of course he did."

"But in that _way_ of his," Ron continued.

"Way?" Harry laughed, and Hermione cleared her throat with a grin.

"Perhaps, young whomever, you can find what you seek where all answers lie." Hermione coughed out the last word, her voice too forced a deepness to not scratch.

The three of them laughed as she wrapped her arms around her best friends and entered Hogwarts. Maybe some things didn't have to change at all.

**May 3; 10:59am**

If the mythological Hyperborea had been located here, she didn't think it was anymore. Out of all the other locations on the map, she had come here first from a double dose of curiosity. Hermione, by nature, was extremely curious about seemingly irrelevant things. So to have the plant combined with the possible place of a great, mythological land? She could hardly contain herself.

While Orsova, Romania, held its own appeal, it certainly wasn't a place where the sun always shined, and people lived to 1,000. Perhaps the map had meant it as a general starting point, and Hyperborea truly lay somewhere within the mountains that surrounded the city. Hermione was fearing a very long hiking trip in her future until she spotted something that stopped her meandering.

The symbol that she had found on both the maps shone back at her in molded iron on the gate. Three chains were wrapped around it, all with different padlocks, and stone fencing towered above her and far to either side. The locks told her that whoever lived there was either very paranoid, or the house had been abandoned. Through the iron bars of the gate, she could make out a stone pathway and high grass, leading up to a moderately sized home. Hermione's brow furrowed as she studied it, looking for a door or window, and finding neither.

It might have been the back of the house, for some reason facing the gate, but it still didn't explain the lack of windows. Paranoia didn't seem too far off, considering she had found the same symbol on a map hidden in a protected cave, together with a Dark Magic dagger, and an enchantment that could have sent her to her grave. It wasn't until she turned the padlocks up, looking at the rust-filled keyholes, that she went with paranoia and abandonment.

Looking around her to make sure no one was around, or watching from the house down the street, she waved her wand in a silent unlocking charm. She was surprised when the padlocks clicked open. She had been expecting wards and enchantments, but all that happened was the gate creaking open. She caught it before it could open more, slipping inside, and locking it behind her.

The lawn was overgrown, reaching her knees as she walked around the house. She made three trips, sure after the second that there really wasn't a single door or window on the entire house. The third was to check for a trap door on the ground, but she still didn't find anything. She didn't see or sense anything magical about the place, and all the revealing spells, and enchantment counter-spells, didn't do anything. The only way in that she could see was the chimney.

_Fantastic_. Perhaps she could go back to one of the shops and buy a few gifts to bring along with her. She was almost positive that no one was living here, but if someone was, dropping in through the chimney wouldn't earn her a welcome. Maybe she could cast an Age Charm on herself. Old people got away with everything. She could just ramble on about goats and housecleaning, and she would be fine.

Levitating herself to the roof was far less tricky than getting a good balance while she was standing on it. Hermione, while gifted in magic, was not the most graceful or agile person. At all. She slipped four times, and nearly fell off during three of them, before she got a grip on the edge of the chimney. She swung her legs over, throwing her arms out for balance before she toppled. She had expected the need for an expansion spell, but the chimney was oddly large for a simple, one-story house. It was still small enough to be too difficult, if not impossible, to levitate herself down so she cast a cushioning charm into its depths and took the plunge.

Her knees buckled when her feet hit the ground, and she fell forward, hitting her forehead off the brick before she could catch herself. Ash exploded up from her feet, and then her knees, covering her in a whirl of grey soot. She coughed on it, throwing her arm over her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut as it coated her mouth and throat. If she ever found herself jumping down a chimney again, she would make sure to cast a _cleaning_ spell as well.

She cast one then, on the fireplace and then herself, waving at the ash still in the air and looking out into the room. It took her two seconds to realize there was a wand pointed at her, and less than one for the obnoxious fear to calm itself. Malfoy wasn't a killer, and if he tried anything else, there would be prison time or severe revenge in his future.

"Malfoy." She glared, pushing herself up and ducking out of the fireplace.

"Granger." He lowered his wand, giving her a sneering once-over.

They scowled at one another for several seconds, both remaining still, and then it broke like a storm. He flung himself towards the left and a desk in the corner, while Hermione sprung toward the right and the shelves along the wall. The sound of their rush filled the room: crinkling paper, drawers spilling out, trinkets rolling, books thudding, furniture scraping, curses, reduction charms, angry muttering.

"This wasn't on the first map, Malfoy."

There was a short pause, and then a loud bang. "The first?"

She gave a warning look to the painting of Venus in front of her, clutching her bag closer to her. "I know it's not in the rumors either."

He scoffed at her, muttered something that she could only make out the sound of his voice from, and then laughed. Hermione threw him a look which clearly told him he was deranged, and she was better than him for being sane. She wasn't finding anything that seemed important at all, though she wanted to take everything she touched just so Malfoy couldn't get his hands on it. Judging by the layer of dust everywhere, no one had been here for a very long time, but she didn't want to take anything she didn't need.

Whoever had lived here was clearly obsessed with mythology. It reminded her of Oliver Sears home, though less cluttered and more put together. Every single book, painting, and knick-knack was related to mythology. She found three old books, well worn and falling apart, that she shoved in her bag. They might contain knowledge about the plant that had been lost over time, and though the plant was connected to gods and goddesses, she doubted that many books held information on it.

She looked for Flora in the array of trinkets and figures on the shelves, but didn't find her there or in the paintings. The small drawers and cabinet in the coffee table held a throw blanket and candles. She was sure Malfoy hadn't found anything remotely interesting that didn't meet his pocket, so she took off to the kitchen. She flung every cabinet open on her way towards one of the two doors, finding kitchenware and two rats. There was nothing in the bathroom or under the paintings in the hall, and she was just throwing open the doors to the bedroom closet, when Malfoy yelled. She looked up, fingers clenching the doors, and heard a squeak followed by a loud bang, and then running footsteps.

Malfoy looked over his shoulder twice as he came into the room. "Scared of a little rat, Malfoy? You better not have killed it. It's not like--"

"I don't like anything _diseased_ coming near me. Worried for your kin?"

"I think rats are more closely related to ferrets than humans, Malfoy. You might think I have a disease of the blood, but your opinion doesn't count for anything to me, or the world at large. At least I don't have your disease of the mind, or the heart, or soul. I'd rather be a Muggle with a soul than a Wizard without one. The fact that you wouldn't just shows the true ugliness of your character."

"It must be so easy for you, Granger," he grunted out as he flung the mattress onto the floor. "Your high horse, and your winning side, and feeling so _superior_. With all your assumptions, and your Order of Merlin, and your Ministry badge. How dare I judge you by your heritage, and then you stand there trying to pass judgment on my soul, and char--"

"You judged me by blood, and I judged you by your choices!"

" _My choices_? I was-- I don't have to justify _shit_ to you."

"I don't want to hear your _justifications_ anyway! All I need to know is the things you have done, the way you treated me, and that even after the war, you still hold the same opinions!"

"You don't _know_ me! You don't know what I believe, or what I've done, or--"

"I know enou-"

“-- _your character_ that you take opinions for facts and--"

"--everything, and I don't claim to know you! But I know what sort of person--"

"--baseless evil, when you do the same. Fucking. Thing!"

"--hate enough to kill people for no single, solid reason than deadly arrogan--"

"I never killed anyone!"

"--and... Not for a lack of trying!"

"That's not the point!"

"It's the whole point, Malfoy! Maybe you aren't a killer, but it doesn't make you a good person! You're still racist, even after--"

"It's a fact! It's a fact that I'm better than a Muggle!"

"Oh, my _God_! You--"

"I can perform magic, and _they_. _Can't_. There isn't a thing in this world that you can try to tell me that disproves that I'm better! That will convince me that it isn't complete _bollocks_ that I have to hide in the world, because they can't handle it. I don't give a shit if _they can't handle it_! It's about--"

"Oh, so I suppose you believe that magical people should rule the world, and Muggles should bow at our feet! It's about balancing power! It's about no Squibs in the Wizarding world holding any position of power, and--"

"It's about having to hide ourselves because of their fear, or--"

"You can't--"

"So you believe in the suppression of Wizarding people, as long as we aren't suppressing--"

"Power has to be controlled! We do perfectly fine in the Wizarding world, but if we were to branch out into the Muggle one, they wouldn't understand! They--"

"I don't care if they don't understand! It's our right--"  
"No, it's not! Muggles would turn into nothing more than slaves, or--" "If they haven't already, they won't then! There's--"

"What do you think would have happened if Voldemort had won? That's what you wanted, right? A dark world, filled with torture and random killings, and slaves, and Muggle genocide? That's why you're after the--"

"Yeah, Granger. Yeah, that's exactly what I want. Fuck, I couldn't _wait_ to kill them all! I couldn't wait to see their inferior blood drain out, or watch him kill them in _my_ _fucking parlor_. All the screaming and begging! But _Merlin_ , how I fucking loved it! What do you say, Granger? Willing to give it another try?"

A crack exploded in the room, as loud and sharp as an Apparition, and Malfoy's head snapped to the side. The moment he began to turn it back toward her, she slapped his face again, hard enough for the stinging burn to rule her palm. Malfoy's jaw clenched as he looked at the wall to his right, and he stretched it, moving it left and right before looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She took a step back _,_ _too close_ , just now realizing that they had stopped rifling through things to scream at one another. Just realizing that she was _too close_ , and she was trembling, and her breath was shaky when she took in a hard pull of oxygen. Malfoy turned his face back toward her, working his jaw again, and looking at the ground for several seconds before looking up at her through his platinum fringe.

He was silent and still, and she wasn't expecting that. She hadn't even bothered to think about it until after she did it, and then she had been waiting for him to break. To hit her, to raise his wand, to yell. She wanted him to, so she could break something - him, or the tension, or the memory, or the phantom pain that clawed her bones. He just looked at her instead, her hand print flaming red on his pale cheek.

"Don't you dare." Her voice came out all wheezy, and squeaky, and heavy. Like something old was trying to lift it into the air, and was struggling.

He continued to stare, and she stared back for just a second longer before walking out to the hallway. Her steps were even and measured, and something was shaking in her chest so she pushed her burning palm against it. Rubbed it, pushed in, cleared her throat.

How dare he not only bring that up but throw it in her face? That in itself proved every harsh judgment she had passed upon his character. Malfoy was like an overgrown rodent in her life - she tried to avoid it, wanted to get rid of it for good, and occasionally it tried to bite at her ankles. But she was so much bigger. She was like the sky above the shallow puddle of bad intentions that made up Draco Malfoy. He didn't matter to her existence, and she tried to remind herself of this. However, with Malfoy, sometimes he got big. Sometimes he swallowed up the earth with his hate, choices, words, and bad memories. It all just exploded until, through her anger, he was all that she could see. But he was still the earth, and she was still the sky, and she would always be above him. Hermione Granger had a heart, loved, gave, and never hurt another living thing except in defense. She knew she was a better person than Malfoy, but that was born from the things he had done, and not those that shouldn't matter.

Hermione shook herself, trying to dislodge thoughts and memories from her head and concentrate on why she was here in the first place. She opened the first door she came to in the hall, the hinges squeaking and breaking the silence buzzing around her. It seemed to push Malfoy into action, as she heard the sound of something brushing against carpet from the bedroom she had left. Lighting her wand and shining it into the small, dark room, she hurried down the stairs she found.

Basements were never good. Hermione had never encountered a basement in her life that was filled with anything one was happy to find. It was the home for animals, killers, sharp tools, and junk storage. She couldn't recall a single movie where a basement door was opened, and she didn't hold her breath in expectation. Basement equaling scary was such a common theme since she was a child that she couldn't help but be apprehensive.

The stairs groaned under her feet, the banister covering her palm with a layer of dust and paint chips as she slid her hand down it. Mold and dampness rushed up in a stench so thick it was almost suffocating, and she coughed over it when she inhaled sharply at the sight before her. Raising her sleeve up to cover her mouth, she flicked her wand to send four dim orbs of light around the room.

There was a red circle at the center of the basement, so dark she had thought it was black until it caught the light properly. There were a few scattered dots and slashes of red in the middle of the small circle, and she knew it was blood. There was a strange sort of pulse that crept along her skin the closer she got to it, leaving goose bumps in its wake, and Hermione was afraid of it on instinct. Whatever this person or group was into, it felt dangerous and powerful. She stayed several paces from it, watching it as if it might spring something forth any second now.

There was a group of candles in the far left corner, and a stripped mattress next to them. Against the wall to her right was a small desk and a box, and she headed there, skirting around the circle carefully. The desk was empty except for a few blank pieces of paper, and the box contained stiff, stench-ridden clothing. She was on her way over towards the mattress when Malfoy began pounding down the stairs. She hurried up her walk, glancing back to make sure it was him, and then jogged to the mattress. There was nothing underneath it, or anything hard within it, and a single mouse behind the candles.

She turned to look up at the ceiling, glancing over to see what Malfoy was doing, and finding him still on the steps. Squinting her eyes in the dim light, she saw that he was kneeling on one of the steps, hunched over, and his shoulders moving. She crept closer as silently as she could, and moved quicker when she heard a ripping noise. There was a board under his arm, short and warped, and she realized it was the top to one of the stairs when she got closer.

She walked toward her right, angling herself to attempt seeing around his back, and raised her wand. She waited impatiently, and the moment he pulled himself upright and she caught a glimpse of his hand, she cast the spell. Malfoy jumped, whirling toward her as the book hit her hand and she clenched her fingers down. Papers had fallen out in its flight, raining down in the space between them, but the main bulk was in her hand.

" _Accio book_ ," Malfoy hissed, and she clamped both hands around it as it tried to sail back towards the blond.

"There's no way," she grunted, pulling the book to her chest and wrapping her arms around it, "that you're...getting...this!"

Malfoy jerked his wand, the spell almost yanking the book from her arms, and her heels dragging across the cement. "I disagree."

She risked her grip and cast a quick Leg-Locking curse, but he blocked it with ease. It still released the summoning charm long enough for her to half-turn in an attempt to Apparate into the living room, but Malfoy was on her so quickly that he might have Apparated himself. He grabbed her arm, the one cradling the book, and was trying to rip it off her shoulder by the feel of it. She yelled out, twisting and throwing a kick to his shin, and they fell in a heap to the floor.

Malfoy landed on top of her, her elbow cracking off the cement beneath her, and all oxygen leaving her in the pressured space between Malfoy and the floor. He was relentless in his search for a good grip on the book and almost snagged it from her in the second loosening of her shock. She squeaked as the back of his hand pushed into her breast as he tried to dislodge her grip, and she smacked him on the side of the head.

"That's molest--"

"Don't worry, I'll be... _burning_...my hand off...later." The book slipped, and she bucked up, trying to twist her body and throw him off of her.

"Let...it...go!" she yelled, smacking her palm into his forehead and shoving his head back.

"You first," he growled, and his fingers stopped trying to pry off hers.

His knee came up, grinding into her leg until it slipped to the side of her lap, and he pulled himself back so he was kneeling. His grip was secure enough to lift her to a sitting position as he tugged the book towards him, but Hermione refused to listen to the strain in her fingers and held on, following it. She brought her chest close to the book, yanking back as hard as she could, and then threw herself into a violent twist to try and dislodge him. Her shoulder rammed into his chest as she brought the book back to her own, wrapping an arm around it, and pinching the skin of Malfoy's wrist as hard as she could. Some weird sound of pain came from somewhere over her head, and she twisted herself again, finally feeling his grip slip away completely.

Turning until she completely faced the ground, she shot an arm out and tried to get her feet under her, kicking one of them into Malfoy. His hands twisted into the denim at her calves and ripped her back, her hand and arm scraping over the cement. More pages had fallen out of the book in their struggle, and she had glanced at them long enough to know they were handwritten. The paper crinkled under her body, and she could feel them sticking to her face as she came to a stop. She wrapped her fingers more securely around her wand, holding the book tightly between her body and the floor, and looked over her shoulder as she aimed behind her. Malfoy had already moved, his trainers smacking down at her side as he grabbed her shoulder and planted a hand over her ribs. She was surprised none of them cracked as he flung her over and onto her back.

Grabbing the book, he pulled her halfway off the floor as her aim settled onto his chest. The book slipped from her arm, and she was halfway through her hex, when he stopped as if someone else had frozen him. His hold on the book was slack, but Hermione was more interested in why he happened to be staring at her with his eyes more intense than she had ever seen them. They were shaded grey, she realized. Like someone had taken a dark grey paint, mixed it with a lighter one, and hadn't completely blended it into one color. She had never been close enough to see it. She had never seen him in details before.

It wasn't her cheek he was so invested in, though, and his hand was just beginning to reach when her own shot up, grabbing the paper from her sweaty skin. She turned away from him sharply, quickly skimming the rough handwriting. Malfoy's reaction was almost as quick, grabbing her shoulder to pull her back, while his other hand grabbed the top of the page. She threw her elbow back and reached out to fling her hand around in the general direction of him, her mouth silently forming around words she didn't know. It was in Latin, and while she knew some of the language, she had never learned all of it. She could speak French, Pig Latin, and the language she and her old friends had made up when they were six. She wasn't fluent in Latin, though she wished right then that she were more than she ever had before.

Malfoy pulled a chunk out of the top of the page as she tried to scramble away from him, and her eyes settled on the three capitalizations on the paper - Floralis Fati and Aeolus. Her heart stopped, stuttered, and took on a frantic beat as Malfoy ripped another piece off, his hand pushing her head down as he tried to reach over her. His knee met her back, and his fingers got tangled in her curls, tearing out what felt like half her scalp when he yanked his hand away.

Hermione's mind was spinning as she tried to crinkle what was left of the page into a ball in her hand, bringing her arm back in a hard arc and knocking her knuckles into his temple. _Aeolus, Aeolus_ , she searched her mind, trying to dig up why that name was familiar. It hit her then, all at once, as if bursting together over the gates that stored her knowledge in organized sections. _Aeolus, god...no, no,_ _ruler_ _of the winds. Winds...Boreas, of the North wind, Zephyrus of the West, and his Greek equivalent being Favonius, husband of Flora._

She gasped, and it seemed to be Malfoy's cue to stop trying to pry her fingers open around the ball of paper. He knew she got it, that it was too late to keep it from her. He pushed back, to his feet and three paces away from her. She watched him, both of them staring at each other, and their panting filling up the room. One thought seemed to echo between their minds, because she knew that he knew as clearly as she. _Aeolian Islands_.

She knew the plant had been named after a goddess, but she had thought it was only because of the powers it had, and that Flora was the goddess of plants. There had been nothing to be found in Rieti, or anywhere connected to Flora. Though she had been led back to mythological clues with Oliver Sears and then the map, she had thought it was just because of the plant's namesake. Surely people obsessed with mythology would know a bit about such a powerful plant that was connected to a goddess, and they might even know something more useful than they thought. She had known something deeper was going on after the cave, but again, it could have been some mythology secret that some group or person had wanted to keep to themselves - like the supposed location of Hyperborea.

She hadn't thought it would be this connected. Not after the places related to Flora turned up nothing. She wouldn't have even searched the cave that was supposed to have once been the home of Boreas and Zephyrus, had it not been for that day at Astherbey's. It was all making sense now - it was all clicking together, and it stared back at her from more than the wad of paper in her heated palm. _Floralis Fati, Favonius, and Zephyrus_ were all on the page next to her hip, _Fati_ , _Boreas_ on another, _Aeolus_ on three more.

Her head snapped up at the _crack_ of Malfoy Disapparating, and she scrambled to her feet. She quickly gathered up the papers around her, shoving them into her fallen bag, and pulling the bag over her shoulder. She was still breathing hard when she Apparated into Wizarding London, and she swished her wand in a quick Cleaning spell as she ran toward the library. She needed an accurate mental image to concentrate on to get her to the Aeolian Islands since she had never been there before. The library must have some picture of the Islands she could go off of.

She found Malfoy in the second aisle she turned down, two books at his feet, one tucked under his arm, and another flipping open in his hands. He didn't even look up at her quick footsteps, but judging by the sneer suddenly on his face, he knew she was there. She _accidentally_ shoved her shoulder into his arm as she grabbed two books off the shelves. The first didn't have a single picture in its mass pages, and the second showed no sign of the Islands. On the third, Malfoy Disapparated, and it wasn't until the fifth that she found it. She stared at the picture, tracing the details, and then focused on the roof of a building. Apparating long distances could be tricky, even more so when she had never been there, but she didn't have time for a Portkey.

Shutting her eyes, she brought the image into her mind and pushed everything else aside, concentrating deeply on the rooftop. She Disapparated on a turn, keeping the image clear in her mind as she held her breath, and snapped her eyes open when her bum hit ground. She slid back from the force that had hit her near the end of her Apparition, staring out at blue water as sand rushed underneath her. Distant laughter and conversation reached her ears, some part of her mind registering that she had just appeared out of nowhere in front of people. Mostly, she was wondering why. It must have been because she had never been to the Aeolian Islands before, and it had been a long distance to cover. It was her first time Apparating in that sort of situation, but she didn't approve of her failure. She felt like she had just gotten a bad mark on a paper, but as she glanced over her shoulder, she took some relief from knowing no one had seen her.

Standing, she dusted herself off and looked down at the book she had taken with her. After studying the line of buildings in the picture, she turned towards those behind her with confusion climbing over her disappointment again. She held the book up against the sight before her, biting her lip and glancing back and forth between the two. It didn't look the same at all, and she couldn't even find the roof that had been her original target.

"Excuse me?" She gave a smile to the two women passing by her, but they ignored her completely. The next group didn't even glance at the picture she was so adamantly shoving her finger towards, so she headed for the first person lying stationary on the sand. "Excuse me? Can you tell me how to get here?"

She knew she would look ridiculous if she already happened to be there, but was positive that the city in front of her was not the same as the one in the picture - unless the picture had been taken a long time ago. Either she had Apparated into a different part of the city, or she had missed it by a lot. Hermione very rarely failed at anything, and the feeling was like a sickness at the bottom of her stomach. Thick and cold, but somehow turning her face hot. She could still taste a faint bitterness at the back of her tongue whenever she looked at a broom.

The man pushed himself up, giving the picture a closer look, and then ushered towards the sea as he spoke rapidly in Italian. Hermione gave him an apologetic look and smiled, though strange and evil people probably knew to also smile when trying to put a stranger at ease. "The Aeolian Islands...that way?"

He nodded, pointing to the picture and then out at the water again. He began speaking slowly, but she still couldn't understand what he was saying, so she watched his hand gestures instead. A car? Walking...getting onto something...a plane? He shook his head at the confusion on her face and flapped his arms like a bird. He laughed at her then and Hermione bristled. It wasn't like the guy was going to win any Guesstures games or something.

He pushed his elbows out to either side of him, and brought his fists close to his chest. He moved both fists in circles, rocking his body, and Hermione cocked her head at him. "A boat?" She pointed out at the water, and did the motion she had thought was a plane.

The man turned his palms up to the sky and nodded with a shrug, pointing down the beach. She could make out docks in the distance, and she hurriedly thanked him, her smile more sincere than it had been since she arrived. She didn't know if she would be able to get on a boat to the Islands, but there must have been some sort of service if the man pointed her here. Perhaps a ferry, though she only had a Galleon and a few Sickles in her bag if it cost anything. She could find a private place and try Apparating again, but she was afraid that the picture might be wrong in the book. In her rush to get there before Malfoy, she hadn't even thought of the possibility of the photo being outdated. It was impossible to Apparate to the top of a building that didn't exist, and Apparating onto what might be a busy Muggle street would not be good either.

She was scanning for a ferryboat when she spotted Malfoy at the end of a dock. She almost passed him over as an old person at first, hunched over with the sun making his hair brighter. The all-black outfit and robes gave him away, though, and she hurried up until she was jogging toward him. There was a small, red rowboat in the dock where Malfoy was standing, and Hermione saw the plump man inside of it when she turned onto the pier. The little rowboat was one of only two along the pier, but she had to dodge the broken mast of the second, which threateningly hung level with her temple. The water ahead of her was dotted with a range of boats, and she could faintly hear a heated argument between a boat captain and a windsurfer.

"--nearest Aeolian Island," Malfoy was saying, and the man looked over at the water, scratching the back of his neck.

Malfoy looked back at her, already glaring, as if knowing all along that the fast taps of rubber hitting wood had been her, and he didn't look surprised at all to see her there. Hermione shot him a look and came to a stop at the side of the pier with a good distance between her and Malfoy, in case he got any ideas.

"Excuse me?" she asked, widening her eyes and looking at the boater with a mix of fear and sadness.

"Yes?" Thank God he knew English. He was looking back and forth between the two on the pier, pulling his hat off as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. She didn't think it was a hot enough day to be sweating, and she wondered what Malfoy had been up to before she arrived.

"I got separated from my friend and I need to get to her right away. Is there any way you can take me to the Aeolian Islands?" Hermione clasped her hands in some gesture of nervous pleading, ignoring Malfoy's huff beside her.

"To take me there," Malfoy drawled, and she glanced over to find a shiny, expensive-looking watch dangling from his fingers.

"All right. Two together," the man conceded, ushering them towards his boat.

Malfoy's watch snapped into his palm, and he closed his fist around it. "The watch, or the girl - there is no 'two together'."

Hermione shot him a dirty look, which did nothing to erase his smugness. "I really need to find my friend before--"

"Let me check, yes? I will find someone else for you." The boater climbed onto the pier with a grunt and a sigh, and then held up a finger to Malfoy. "Un momento."

They both watched him until he was halfway down the pier before Malfoy looked at her, eyebrow arched. "Nice story, Granger. As pathetic as it was, sympathy never wins over money."

"Maybe in your sad, screwed up world."

"Like the one you're currently standing in? Seeing as how he opted for my watch over your ridiculous expression. Besides, I thought we both shared the same world?" He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "Where is th--"

"Shut up, you know very well what--"

"I thought pure-bloods and Muggleborns could peacefully--" His tone was all dry sarcasm.

"We can, once your _kind_ leaves--"

" _My_ kind? Are you saying that my _kind_ doesn't _belong_ in--"

"Death Eaters belong in prison cells, and not in a society trying to rebuild after--"

"I guess the Dark Lord was right all along. Muggle-borns really do want to take over and--"

"Stop certain pure- and half-bloods from killing everyone off? Yeah, _guess so_. There are people who want peace, and there--"

"Peace and equality?" He looked bored, and not at all like there had been wars over those same goals.

"Yes. Some people don't deserve it, or rather they lose their righ--"

"Too true."

"Don't. Don't twist my words around! There's a _huge, massive_ difference. We want peace and equality, and you wanted Muggle-borns dead or-"

"I don't give a shit what you people do. You can die or take over government, jump off a cliff or go save the world. As long as you don't demand I help you, and you leave me the hell alone, I--"

"Oh, so _that_ was Voldemort's plan of action this whole time. Just--"

He sneered at her, his eyes narrowing. "Do I look like fucking Voldemort to you?"

She blinked slowly at him. "Well, it's not like you haven't been... What are you doing?"

He muttered something, quickly untying the rope knot that was holding the boat to the pier. He tossed the watch at her, and it hit her in the shoulder before landing with a clunk at her feet. "Give him that, would you."

"You can't steal his boat! The watch was for him to bring you over, not for the boat!"

"The watch will cover it."

"It doesn't matter! That-- He's on his way back by now and--"

"He's taking too long, and you're giving me a headache. Besides, I wish to arrive there _before_ you, and not--" He jumped down into the boat, taking a seat on one of the benches.

"You cannot... Mal--"

" _What_ are you doing?"

Hermione settled herself onto the bench across from where he had sat, brushing sand off her jeans. "You can either wait for him to get back, or you can leave with me on board. I'm not letting you get there before me, and I doubt you want to steal this boat just to row all the way there with me the whole time."

"Get off."

"No."

"Get. Off."

"Are we going... Stop rowing!" she yelled, gripping the sides of the boat like pressure there could stop it.

"Change your mind?" They banged off the pier next to the one they had left, and Malfoy reached out to shove them away from it.

"You cannot steal--"

"I can, I am, and you being here makes you an accomplice. How is that for equality?" He gave her a nasty little smile before looking over her head at the pier, speeding up the rotation of his arms.

"I will tip this boat."

"I will throw you overboard. If you decide to stay on, I will wait until we're out in the middle of the sea, and I'll throw you over then."

"Try it," she warned, but her voice sounded distant with how lost she was in her head.

Something about this situation seemed very familiar. She couldn't decide if it was the boat or Malfoy, but it was like that annoying and maddening sensation of a word 'at the tip of your tongue'. It was _right there_ , but somehow far enough away that thinking about it was building a headache between her temples. Malfoy kept switching between observing the space between them and other boats, and giving her looks that told her he knew she was up to something and there was no way it was going to work out well for her.

"I don't suppose you can move your lazy arse and help me row."

"Fat chance." She snorted at him, turning to look back at the shrinking pier, but the man was still not there.

She jerked back towards Malfoy when the boat rocked, and found him standing up, unbuttoning his robe. He pulled it off, and she could tell the material was heavy when he dropped it onto the bench beside him. He looked ruffled, his hair messy from the wind, and red dashes on his cheekbones from the physical exertion. He probably wasn't used to doing anything laborious in his life.

Prat.

She observed the oddity of seeing him in a regular, plain blue T-shirt, before squinting at his left arm. She couldn't see the place where the Dark Mark had been from her angle, but she desperately wanted to. She didn't even know why she wanted to see it so badly but she had to resist the urge to grab his arm and have a look.

He had a scar on his left hand - that she could see. It was shaped like a long capital L right above his weird, sharp knuckles. They looked like someone had taken the sharp side of stones and shoved them under his skin - which worked well with her theory that he was a robot. Anyone who could nearly crack the back of her hard skull with the front of their face could not be normal. Had he drunk milk by the barrel as a kid? Maybe Voldemort had found a spell that covered his followers' bones in frigging titanium or something. He wasn't normal, with his freakishly hard face.

"I must be attractive to you, Granger, especially with the whole 'want what you can't have' thing, but if you keep staring at me like that, I'm going to have to scrub my skin off."

"Is that supposed to get me to stop? And I don't know what kind of person could possibly be attracted to you, but I would rather scrub my eyeballs out. Didn't we already cover this? You--"

"Right. I didn't need to be reminded of whatever deranged thing you do with trolls." He made a face like he might be getting sick, though she wasn't sure if it was because of his sick mind or the rocking boat.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione sounded appalled, which matched her facial expression perfectly. "Weren't you the one dating Pansy Parkinson?"

"Are _you_ actually criticizing people's looks?"

Hermione flushed, pursing her lips and straightening out the bottom of her shirt like she usually did when she felt self-conscious. "I was just pointing out that if anyone were attracted to trolls here, Malfoy, it would be you."

He blinked twice at her and cocked his head, his mouth open just enough for her to see that his tongue was pressed against the row of his bottom teeth. "Are you trying to start some Troll Fetish group or something? I'm really not interested. I understand that you don't want to be alone in the world, Granger, but sometimes you're just meant to be. Especially when you have that unfortunate personality. And voice. And--"

" _I'm_ the one with unfortunate personality? I understand that we're still in that critical age group of people trying to find themselves, but by the sounds of it, you've never even _heard of_ yourself."

"Real witty, Granger. Read that somewhere? Saw it on your Muggle television?"

"Yes, actually. I believe it was titled 'The Key to Understanding Complete--'" Hermione leaned back as he stood, and moved to raise her wand when he drew his, but stopped when he breathed a laugh.

"Oh, but it _is_ tempting," he muttered, tapping his wand against his palm.

Hermione watched the broom grow out of his hand and looked around them, but the closest boat was far enough for her not to see any people on it. "You can't fly that here."

"Watch me."

"If someone sees you--"

"They'll believe in aliens?" He swung a leg over his broom, pulling on his robe before tucking his wand into one of the pockets. "Have fun rowing - I think you have another fifteen miles or so. I'll be sure to send you a photograph of myself with the flower. I know you don't have any friends, but perhaps you can show it to all your cats when you're old and talking about what could have been."

She huffed, but he was gone before she could reply or kick his broom.


	8. Part Eight

**4:37pm**

Hermione was starving and the sway of the boat did nothing to help her nausea. If she'd had anything in her stomach, she would have gotten sick an hour ago. She had tried to read the book she had accidentally stolen from the library but it was only making her more sick to her stomach. The only good thing about her little voyage across the sea was that she had charmed the ores to row by themselves, or else her arms would have probably fallen off by now. She had to pretend she was rowing every time a boat passed, but she was mostly alone on the water. The more time that passed without her seeing land, the more worried she became. Especially since Point Me decided to switch directions on her palm every few seconds when she knew she was keeping straight. She could always Apparate, but it wasn't easy when you were standing on something rocking as hard as a crazy person.

When she finally spotted land, she almost tipped the boat in her excitement. As soon as she hit land, she was going to Apparate home, eat something, and then Apparate back. After she was done searching some of the island, she would take the trip back to return the boat, go home, and then come back early tomorrow. Malfoy had about two hours on her, but she wa--

Hermione's eyes shot open wide as she heard something splintering. Jumping up from her seat, she clutched her bag to her chest and spun towards the front of the boat. It was falling apart, like someone was hitting it with a sledgehammer as water rushed in. Hermione yelled as the water built over her feet and the boat tipped, continuing to bust apart. She cast several rapid repairing spells, a few pieces flying back together before _falling apart_ again, and then the whole thing gave way under her feet.

She crashed into the water, tasting salt heavy in her mouth, and splashed to the surface. She spit the water out, coughing on what she had swallowed, and panted for breath. Chunks of wood were floating or sinking around her, and she found that even the ores had broken when she knocked her hand against a piece of it.

"What? _What_?" Hermione breathed, treading water and spinning herself in circles. _How_ did that even just happen? Unless there was some sort of jagged tip she had run into, or a shar--

Hermione gasped, choking on the wave that sent water down her throat, and started swimming as fast as she could towards land. She didn't even know if there were sharks in the Tyrrhenian Sea, or why she hadn't heard its snapping jaws, but she wasn't about to risk it. Hermione could handle a lot of things, but there was no way a shark was going to _eat her_.

_Shark, shark, shark_ , she chanted in her head, and every shark attack she had seen in films and the news began to explode into the front of her brain. Her heart was playing the tune of Jaws, building in tempo, and the world got hazy from the white splash and her panic. She was waiting for teeth to sink into the soft smoothness of her stomach or a fin to whack her arm. Where were the dolphins? Hadn't she read stories about dolphins rescuing people and carrying them to the shore? She loved dolphins. She loved dolphins so much, and if they were going to come bring her to shore, _they had better do it now_.

_Dolphins saved me_ , she would tell everyone. _They rescued me from killer, boat-destroying sharks_ , and she would give so much to dolphin charities. Or even _the shark didn't eat me_ \-- that was a story she would like to live to tell.

Thankfully, she had been close to land. She swam for less than three minutes before having to swim along a steep cliff to a spot that was climbable. She reached up and grabbed slick rock and dirt, pulling her water-weighted body up four times before she finally hauled herself onto something solid. She lay there gasping for breath, her cheek pressed against rock, and she might never get the taste of salt from her mouth. There was another smell now, strong and unpleasant, like...sulfur?

_I beat you. I beat you, and I didn't even need the traitor dolphins. Thank. You. God_.

Hermione shoved her bag away from her, wincing at the sound of waterlogged books hitting the ground, and rolled over onto her back. Jesus, it smelt terrible here. The place reeked of rotten eggs and salt, which was not a combination Hermione had ever cared for. She lazily searched her brain for something to help her with that, content on not getting up until she fully caught her breath, and waved her wand for a Drying Charm. She blinked at the sky when it didn't do anything, casting it again, again, and then again.

Hermione shoved herself up to her elbows to look down at herself, because her body might be playing tricks on her or something. She was still soaked, and so she cast the spell again, and again, and then looked at her wand to make sure it wasn't broken.

She scrambled to her feet, staring down at the wet outline of her body and then at her bag. " _Accio_ bag! _Wingardium Leviosa! Flagro! Lumos! Engorgio_!"

Hermione exhaled heavily, running her fingers down the length of wood. She looked around her, bringing the wand to her chest like it were injured, and stared back down at her bag. Her magic was gone.

**6:17pm**

It had been a very long day. One of those days where the only thing she wanted to do in the world was crawl into bed and sleep it off for about two weeks straight. She was pretty sure it had been at least four days since she woke up this morning, because a head should not feel so heavy when you had been awake for less than twelve hours.

She had spent about two hours in the small cluster of houses, hotels, shops, and restaurants. There had been more tourists risking disease in what must have been a cesspool inside the _mud baths_ near the shore, that they somehow thought were good for the skin. According to the pamphlet she had gotten when she jumped into the tour, the baths were supposed to have _therapeutic_ properties. Hermione figured that was said because anyone who willingly took a dip with two dozen people in a hot bacteria-breeding-ground mud bath that smelt rancid _needed therapy_.

She hadn't seen a hint of the symbol that had led her there, found a single local that spoke English, or found anything that could bring her in the right direction. She hadn't seen Malfoy either, and she was stuck between being pleased and feeling nervous. He was like a child - if you didn't hear them making a lot of noise, they were probably getting into something they shouldn't.

She hadn't properly explored the island, or any of the others that were a part of the Aeolian Islands, but she had to go home. She was cold, hungry, tired, and without magic, money, or research. She knew, of course, that magic couldn't just go away, but that something had caused it to stop working. There must have been something on or about the island that was stopping it, which would explain why she hadn't been able to Apparate there. If the signs she had started to follow after drinking the tea had led her in the right direction, then the plant was probably here -- somewhere. It made sense that there would be an assortment of wards in place to prevent an easy finding.

She hated being without magic, though. She felt exposed and paranoid, and while she had held on to parts of her Muggle heritage, she still used a lot of magic in her daily life. She didn't feel safe without it, and that wasn't something she could adjust to.

She needed to get back to the other shore where Malfoy had stolen the boat - Milazzo, according to the library book that was now lying somewhere at the bottom of the sea. She would Apparate home to eat, sleep, and research. Tomorrow, she would convert some money, pack some food, and bring things she would need, like a torch, a translation bo--

Hermione's head snapped up towards the front of the ferry as it began to creak. She looked around her to see if anyone else had heard it as well, but the only other people on board was a small group near the front and a couple pretty caught up in themselves a few yards in front of her. The ferry let out a low groan under the laughing from the front, but nothing began to crack or splinter like the rowboat had. She braced herself anyway, her knuckles white on the strap of her bag, but she still couldn't be fully prepared when it came.

She yelled out at the pressure that hit her like a wall, forcing her to run backwards just to keep balance. It felt like it had in the cave, and she remembered Malfoy running awkwardly towards her. Hermione pushed back against the pressure, trying to stop it, grinding her heels in and shoving herself forward, but the invisible wall was unbreakable. The back of her thighs slammed into something, and she had just enough time to process that it was the railing before she was falling.

The sounds of the boat, her wild heartbeat, and her static breathing were all muted by the silence of the sea. She spun, kicked, punched, and yelled out a chorus of bubbles that were lost to the water, before emerging on a gasp.

_Not. Again._

She shoved her hair back from her eyes, watching the fading silhouette of the ferry against the darkening sky. There were no honks, or screaming of 'man overboard', or slowing down. It kept going along as if she hadn't even been on it and abandoned her in the sea. She stretched an arm out, reaching, _reaching_ , and pushed her palm against solid air. She kicked it next, punched, and then poked, and kicked again. She swam out along it, searching for a gap or a weakness, and found none.

There was just her, the tiny lights from the island in the distance, the dark blue water, and the barrier that had her trapped.

**May 4; 11:03am**

Hermione Granger _hated_ facts. This was a fairly new development in her life, but she had decided on this with certainty when she had been sandwiched between two trees in the pitch-black night, sopping from the sea, starved, and shaking with chills.

She was apparently _trapped_ on an island, unable to use magic or communicate with the locals. She had no local currency, no food, and no protection.

What she did have, beyond what she was wearing, wasn't anything she _needed_. The books she had shrunk were ruined by her two swims and had become useless in her inability to have the eyesight of a god. Her wand had been turned into a stick with memories. She had the map she had found in the cave, still unaffected by the repeated exposure to water, and completely unhelpful when it came to the Islands. The rest were a collection of items that also didn't serve a purpose: a pocket notebook, a pen and quill, breath mints, hair clips, and fluff. There had been more, but it must have fallen out when she had fallen in.

She'd given most of her Wizarding money to a man running a sandwich stand. She hadn't known if she should, but it wasn't like he would suddenly discover the existence of another world from some coins. He had stared at the silver in her hand and the hungry look on her face, laughed, and given her a baguette. She dragged up as much self-control as she could manage and only ate half, saving the rest for when she figured out a way to get more food. The only things she had of any value was a Galleon, a ring her mother gave her, and a bracelet Harry and Ron had gotten her for Christmas - she was completely unwilling to part with the last two.

Given the clues that led her here, the tea at Astherbey's, the Islands connection to Flora, and the enchantments, the plant was likely here somewhere. If she called her parents or Harry to have the Ministry come, they would need to know all the information - including the stuff she had kept hidden. She would need to explain about Oliver, the cave and the similar enchantments, the other map, and why she didn't decide to tell her boss about all of this. She might have to tell them about the tea at Astherbey's as well, in case they didn't believe that the plant could be here. If she didn't lose her job for all of that, she would probably be off the case. There was also the whole matter of _time_. Time to reassign people, break the enchantment, inform everyone of all the information, and that wasn't time they had. Malfoy must also be on the island, and from the stories she had heard, worse people than him were looking for it as well. They only had this one chance to get the plant before anyone else.

She could call Harry and ask him to help without telling the Ministry, but that wasn't something she wanted to do. She could be risking his job as well, and most importantly, it had only been a year since the end of the war. She didn't need to drag him on some adventure that she was perfectly capable of handling on her own, when all Harry deserved was some peace and relaxation in his life. It would also take him time to gather everything together, get here, and catch up on everything. If she needed him, she would call, but it was too early for that.

Getting help would only hinder her more right now. She had already wasted too much time throwing herself a pity party while Malfoy had been out there searching. This was a matter of the very fabric of time, immortality, resurrection, and healing. A matter of very bad people doing very bad things, or very good people doing very good things. She had come this far, and she would do what she had to. Roughing it out for a little while was worth it.

**May 4; 4:39pm**

"Shit, Granger - I thought you were an undocumented creature. How many things do you reckon are living in your hair?"

Hermione didn't even bother turning to look at him. She was too concentrated on the banana tree plant in front of her and not squishing the mushrooms under the bananas she was throwing in her bag. They were green but a decent size, and no matter how unpleasant they might taste, she would eat them. It had felt like hitting gold when she had found it, and she had already filled up half of her tote with them. There were more around her, but the bananas were at least twice her height above her on those, and with this one, she only had to stand on her toes and _pull, wiggle, twist_. She also tried using her quill, but it ended up becoming more of a Banana Serial Killer than a cutting utensil.

"How much air takes up the space where your brain should be?" It wasn't her best, but she was too distracted with the possibility of Malfoy stealing her bananas.

"Less than what's in yours, of course." He sounded distracted as well, but he had better stick to one of those tall trees and stay away from hers.

"Whatever," she muttered, yanking the bundle down and pulling more bananas off.

She looked back at Malfoy and the chopping and snapping coming from his direction, finding him with a large branch pulled down in one hand and a dagger in the other. She turned quickly, so her back wasn't towards him, watching the dagger's blade gleam as he cut off bundles. They fell around his feet and near his robes that were lying open on the ground. His hair was messy and his hands were dirty, a layer of sweat on his arms that was attracting as many mosquitoes as her own. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, and she was guessing he smelt like sulfur and salt as badly as she did.

He released the branch, leaves falling as it flew back up, and pulled a small drawstring bag from his pocket. He glanced up at her as he slid the blade into the bag, tucking the dagger into his pocket. He didn't sneer, smirk, give a condescending look, or even glare. An unfamiliar look on his face while he was in the possession of a dagger was _not_ something she was comfortable with at all.

She hurriedly pulled off several bananas, stuffing them into her bag, and reminding herself that she couldn't use her wand. She did have a sharp quill, though, and when she was leaving for Hogwarts the first time, her mother had taught her the two places to go for if a man attacked her. _Between the legs or right for the eyes, Hermione_. She had thought her mother had been acting like a typical mother at the time, but if Malfoy decided to get too close with his creepy blank look and sharp objects - well, she always did like to make her parents proud.

She pulled the strap over her shoulder and heaved the bag around to her back, watching Malfoy pile the bananas on top of his robe and fold the fabric up. She stood awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say or do, and then began walking the way she had been going.

"Have you noticed anything strange about this island, Granger?" His voice seemed to echo out into the trees around them and become louder in her head.

She hesitated, looking over her shoulder at him and his rugged appearance. "I can't leave, either - if that's what you're asking."

He tossed a banana up in the air a couple times, before hauling his makeshift bag over his shoulder. He glanced at her, giving a short nod before turning. She listened to the sound of his feet crunching with hers, growing more distant, until she was alone again.

**May 6; 1:30am**

The mosquitoes were going to eat her alive. That, or whatever was rustling around in the bushes or making the trees groan. She had known she was going to a Muggle town when she had left her flat the other day, so she had only worn a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and had shoved her cloak in her bag. If she had had a robe or coat right now, then she could have wrapped it around her and hoped the bugs didn't get in, but she settled for covering her upper half with the cloak. Unless there were mutant bugs that could bite her through denim or her trainers, she would be all right.

She could hear weird animal noises around her, and constantly felt like there were things crawling all over her skin and hair. It was the sort of dark where her hand in front of her face would sooner smack her than her eyes see it. The ground was hard, the bark in her back was unforgiving, and all she had for water was the small tin that used to hold her breath mints.

She was blaming all of this on Malfoy.

**May 7; 12:39pm**

Malfoy was bleeding profusely - his platinum hair had turned a shaded red, it was streaming down his face, and his shirt was soaked black. She had stared in shock at his bleeding and still form, scrutinizing the swollen blue skin of his eye sockets and waiting for them to pop open. They didn't, though. The blood was spreading out on the ground around him, and it wasn't until she buried her fingers against the cool sweat of his neck that she was close to positive he was dead. She had stared in shock, hearing only her own thundering heartbeat as she searched again for his, but it was spotting the small rise and fall of his stomach that finally let her pull her fingers away.

She had ripped a strip from her cloak to wrap around his head, attempting to stop the flow from the gash there. She didn't know what had happened to his chest, but she pushed her heavy bag on top of him for pressure against whatever wounds might be there, before screaming out for help. She didn't know where the closest village was, but she couldn't help Malfoy on her own - not with this many injuries, and God only knew how long he had been just lying there and bleeding out.

Malfoy wasn't her friend by any means, and she wasn't even sure what kind of person he was at all, but he was still a _person_. He had done bad things and made wrong choices, but he was still a human being, and that meant something to the sort of person Hermione was. Maybe some people deserved to die slowly, painfully, and alone, but those were very bad people. That was Voldemort, and Bellatrix, and several others that have done the same to other people. Whatever Malfoy was or how much she didn't like him, he wasn't _them_ , and he didn't deserve to die like that.

So she dragged him. If heavy things were a sack of potatoes, Malfoy's dead weight was a truck of rocks. It must have been all that metal coating on his bones, because he didn't appear overweight, but he sure felt like an elephant to her smaller frame. It only took a few minutes for her muscles to begin burning and the sweat to build up on her skin. She had to drag him up hills, maneuver him around trees, and try to avoid falling or crashing into anything as she walked backwards.

She was hunched over him, her arms under his and wrapped around his chest, his head lolling on her chest. She had to stop every few heaves to catch her breath and relax the burn in her calves and back, and then dig her heels in and start hauling him again. He didn't move or make a sound the entire time she tried to navigate them back towards the village on the coast - not when she dragged his leg across bark, kneed him in the back, or dropped him.

She had given up her constant yelling for assistance in favor of oxygen, but after every panting break, she would scream out again. Her grip on Malfoy kept slipping in the layer of slick sweat on her skin, and his blood was covering her arms and neck. It was bright red in the sun, and she stared at it as she pulled him, not wanting to look at his head or face, just in case. _Just in case_ he was dead now, and she was pulling the corpse of Draco Malfoy through the vegetation of a volcanic island. That was not what her life had become. _That was not her life_ _._

While contemplating all the different ways in which this could have happened and hoping he wasn't dead, she heard something coming through the trees to the left in front of her. She stared at the spot, wondering if it was help or whatever had happened to Malfoy, while hunching down and feeling her quill and wand stab into her thigh. She narrowed her eyes at the glimpse she caught through the trees, then choked on her saliva when he emerged in front of her.

Hermione stared in shock at him standing there, slowly lowering her gaze to the man in her arms. Despite the slowness due to her surprise when she looked at both of them, the registering of bloody hair beneath her chin caused her to drop him and fly back like his skin held an acid that burned through hers. She tripped over herself, or a root, landing on her bum for just a second before scrambling to her feet again. She grabbed her wand from her pocket on instinct, her aim wavering between the two Malfoys in front of her. This must have been somewhere in the top ten of her nightmares.

The Malfoy that was standing was uninjured, a little more ruffled and dirty than when she had seen...a Malfoy collecting bananas, and was looking more pale than usual. His eyes were flicking back and forth between her and the injured Malfoy, before settling on the other him.

He stepped forward and Hermione gave a quick shake of her head. "Stay back!" "We both know that wand isn't going to do anything," he snapped. " _What_ _the_ _fuck_ _is_ _that_ _?"_

"What are _you_?"

" _What_?"

Hermione shook her head again, forcing herself to stick the pointless wand back in her pocket, wrapping her fingers around the quill instead. "What are you playing at, Malfoy? Or _whatever_ you are!"

He pointed at his chest, his mouth popping open as he stared out at her through his fringe. "I'm not playing at anything, Granger! You're the one dragging a fucking copy of me through-- If you thought that was me... What did you _do_ to it? Beat it with--" He was looking at her like she was an ugly creature that had just suddenly emerged from the earth, and there was all this shock and accusation that somehow made her feel guilt for no reason at all.

"I didn't do _anything_ to him! I was trying to help hi-- I found him like this! Lying there! Probably an animal, or one of those other peop-- You! You--"

"I didn't do anything!" Malfoy yelled so loudly she jumped. "Why wou--" "Polyjuice!" she yelled back, trying to discreetly pull the quill from her pocket.

She would go for the eyes if she had to. _Right for the eyes_. "I know all about--"

"Yeah, Bellatrix and the Ministry, I know!" She froze as he shouted the information, and he seemed to realize that rushing her point did more than shut her up -- it _proved_ something. "I--"

"Anyone could know that! A little research and some guessing, a couple of rumors, and--"

"I don't care if you don't believe me! I'm not the one with my bloody corp-"

They both froze, Hermione on a gasp, as the body _disappeared_. She gaped at the spot, at her arms no longer covered in blood. She reached down slowly, holding her breath as she waited to feel an invisible body, but her hand touched the dirt instead. It was _gone_ , as quickly as an illusion. She had sworn that it was real, though. She had felt it and dragged it, and it had been solid, _heavy_ , warm, and wet with blood.

She felt along the dirt, the empty space, and turned her eyes up towards Malfoy as he pointed at her. "I'm onto you. Whatever you're trying to pull, whatever game you're--"

"This isn't a game!" Hermione yelled. "He was real! I was--"

"It's not going to work," he hissed, his eyebrow raising, as he pressed his lips together, shaking his head. "Go on and try your very best. It's not going to work."

"You don't under-- Malfoy..." He kept walking away, ignoring her.

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath and clenched her fists. It wasn't from the anger, like Malfoy, but to stop the trembling. She watched the tightness of his back as he sauntered farther away from her, and then stared at the spot where the doppelganger had been.

**May 7; 1:43pm**

If a tree fell in the forest and no one was around to hear it - did it make a sound? What came first - the chicken or the egg? People kill other people because of hatred - could that ever be a good enough reason? If a hotel cart was left outside unsupervised - was it still stealing?

These were some of the great questions in life, but Hermione decided to contemplate them after she had finished shoving toiletries and bathing supplies into her bag. The hotel room doors were evenly spaced down the outside of the building, the cart filled with room necessities and cleaning products sitting between rooms 107 and 108. Hermione could hear the maid humming through the open doorway of room 108 as she scrubbed something until it squeaked.

Hermione only took what she needed: a few small bottles of shampoo, a couple of tiny bars of soap, some toilet paper rolls, and one of the plastic covered cups. She felt bad about stealing it, but her desperation for a shower and using something other than _leaves_ had reached extreme heights. When she found the plant and got out of here, she would come back and leave money somewhere to make up for it. It wasn't like _stealing_ , then - it was _loaning_...or something.

**May 8; 12:09pm**

Hermione fingered the stem of a flower she didn't recognize. She knew this couldn't be it, as open to the world as it was. Though she doubted many people came through here, someone would have found it by now. She pulled a petal off and put it in her mouth just to be sure, chewing on it, in case it was the juice that caused the visions. She spit it out when nothing happened, trying one of the leaves next with the same result.

Fantastic - here she was, chewing on flowers now. At least she had finally had a bath in a hot spring off the shore last night, but since she had no toothpaste, the flower was likely more disgusted by her actions than she was. Her parents would not be pleased with her right now.

The crack of a twig was her only clue that she wasn't alone, and it came just a few meters away. Her head jerked up like it had every time she heard something after... after _that thing_. She saw a flash of something dark to her right, adrenaline shooting through her on a wave of fear within the millisecond it took for her eyes to snap back to it.

The man was massive. His hands looked like they could swallow her head, veins bulging on forearms heavy with muscles, but a large belly ballooning out his shirt. She closed her mouth so quickly that her teeth clinked together, hiding the chewed bits of leaf on her tongue. There was a knife sheath clipped to his belt and a long velvet bag she had seen some people use for a wand holster. His knees to his boots were caked in mud, and her eyes flashed to the thick stick she had seen earlier, just two steps to her left. She would dive for it if he came any closer.

She didn't even know if he was real. Ever since that _thing_ had happened with Malfoy, she had started to question the true existence of everyone around her. She knew that the Malfoy clone had looked and felt real, though, so whatever sort of magic that had been, she was not going to question if it could _do_ real things. She didn't know what it was or why it did that, but whether this man was real or not, she was expecting that he could do anything.

"Thank God! Do you know the way back to the sea? I was in a tour group..." _Too much information means you're lying_ , she reminded herself. "I've been lost since last night."

He kept staring at her. She wasn't the best liar but she was trying her very hardest. If the man was real and after the plant, or he was just magic, he still had a knife. A knife and massive size to Hermione's distant stick, and her average height leaving her somewhere near the middle of his chest. He must have come in at least three times her weight, and she knew there were certain battles she had to retreat from when she couldn't use her wand.

"The village - people, boats," she tried, reaching to the bottom of her bag to grab the tour guide pamphlet she had gotten days ago.

His hand reached for his belt, so she whipped it out quickly, pointing at the lush green island that couldn't be the one she was on. This one had a few sections that were thick in trees and plants, but it was more sparse vegetation, pumice, rock, and volcanos. She had walked into a section that had been so grey that her skin tone looked painfully bright, and the beach on the far side of the island was black. The sulfur stench stained everything. She knew it wasn't the only island with one or more volcanos, but if this one wasn't the one named _Vulcano_ , she really wasn't looking forward to getting there.

He stared at the pamphlet while she angled herself towards the stick, and then he met her gaze. His eyes were too close together -- small, round circles of burnt brown. They looked like knots in a tree. She narrowed her own eyes, wondering if she had seen any wood where Clone Malfoy had been lying. Had she ever read anything that could make an object not only look like a living person, but _feel_ like it too? There were a lot of complex Illusionment spells, but none she had ever found could make it feel real unless there was a person there. She and Malfoy couldn't Disapparate off the island or use any sort of magic, and the Clone hadn't moved into a Disapparition anyway. She couldn't know if Portkeys still worked, but she doubted it since Apparition didn't. If they did and the person had a timed--

The man stepped closer to her, looking at the flower in her hand, and it snapped her back from her thoughts. She searched for an excuse, saying the first thing that came to mind. "I was looking for something to eat. I'm desperate because...I'm so...hungry."

He looked back up at her, and she smiled at him, shrugging her shoulders. She could hear the _whir, whir_ of her blood in her ears, goosebumps breaking out along the top of her arms as she focused all her concentration on him. If he walked another step towards her, or his hand flinched toward his belt, she would have to make her move.

"Do you know where the sea is? The water? The village, with the people and boats? I--"

He lifted a thick arm, pointing towards his left while looking at the flower in her hand again. She kept her breathing even in an attempt to not give away her anxiety, dropping the flower at her feet. She thanked him and tried to smile, hurrying off in the direction he had pointed.

She checked behind her for hours after.

**May 8; 8:02pm**

She scrubbed her clothes with soap and a rock at the edge of the sea, the shallows and darkness hiding her nudity as she glanced around in a constant state of paranoia. The water provided her some cleanliness, but also finally, finally a refuge from the mosquitoes. Her skin was scratched red and raw from her nails on the bites, the constant itch another maddening thing to deal with.

**May 9; 9:42am**

She had gone five days on nothing more than mushrooms and bananas. She had gone through worse, but she _needed. Meat_. Just the thought of chicken made her mouth water, but she would even settle for _venison_ right now, which was not something she ever had tried more than once and hated. She had had to apologize to a little bird a few hours ago for the contemplative and hungry look she was giving it. If she ever ate bananas again after this, there would have to be someone forcing it on the other end.

Hermione was following a patch of grape vines up a steep hill that led to another volcano. Most of the vines didn't hold even the smallest grape, but on the horrible chance that she was stuck here for another few months, at least she knew she could get them here. She didn't see herself still searching the island in another two weeks, though. She didn't know if the barrier she was trapped behind extended to include the other Islands, or if it was just around this one. If it was only around this one, she would have to make that call to Harry after all.

She planned on calling him anyway, if she could get a tourist to lend her their mobile. She had never bought one since the only people she communicated with that had telephones in their home was her family and Harry. She had figured that a home phone had been enough, and it had been until now. She didn't want to call him from one of the hotel or restaurant phones in case the location came up, but she did need to tell him she was safe, ask him to inform the Ministry that she was deep into her assignment, and tell her parents she was fine. He would hate her not telling him anything, but if there was anyone in the world who deserved a break from adventures, danger, and strange magic, it was Harry Potter. Ron would either be too offended she hadn't involved them in the first place to do anything about it, or he would only add to Harry's fire.

She loved her best friends, but she didn't need to drag them into a mess she could handle by herself.

**3:58pm**

The hammering footsteps gave him away before the sight of him did. If he had decided not to run at her, he probably could have crept up behind her and grabbed her before she noticed him. She knew who it was just by the sound of his heavy run, his image flashing into her mind as she turned large eyes over her shoulder to confirm it.

He was on her, then, crashing into her back with all the force his weight had gained while running down the mountain. The man's fingers squeezed into her upper arm, pulling her back, but it was too late. He landed on top of her so hard that she went temporarily blind, though it might have been from her face smashing off the ground. She didn't even have time to breathe in or fully express her shock and pain before he shifted and they began to roll. He was far heavier, the mountain pulling him down quicker, which was good, because if they had been constantly rolling over each other, she would have broken bones.

She reached out for something, _anything_ , to grab onto. Her fingers clutched at grass, rock, dirt, nothing at all. Rocks and twigs were stabbing into her body with every roll, and all she saw was the ground, sky, _groundskyground_. It was the grape vines that she finally caught in her grasp, though she hardly recognized what they were at all through the wild searching and glaze of her eyes. They cracked and uprooted under the speed of her weight, but they slowed her down as she kept grabbing at them, twisting her body around so she was vertical and on her stomach.

She closed her eyes and yelled out through her teeth as her shirt rode up, the friction of the earth scraping across her skin as she skidded to a halt. She gasped for two breaths, opening her eyes, her body hot with her stomach and hands burning, but there was a strange coldness in her nose. It took her a moment to recognize the flow of blood down the back of her throat, but it was completely unimportant to her the second she wrapped her fist around a rock and rolled over onto her back.

The bottom of the mountain was only a few meters away, and the man must have stopped there by the time she was clutching vines. He was only a few steps away from her, his face a vicious red and his eyes bulging. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, scrambling back to get her feet under her, but he was already there. She kicked out, hitting his calf and then his knee, before he buckled. She pulled her legs back again, aiming for his face, but his large hand wrapped around her ankle like she were a child.

She yelled out as he yanked her forward, the ground scraping up her back now, and he settled a meaty hand over the expanse of her throat. She kicked out and kneed, her head spinning as he pushed down and closed up the passageway to her lungs. She dug her nails into his wrist, pulling up a leg to kick with all her might into his stomach before he could settle on top of her. He grunted, a vein bulging across his forehead and saliva flecking across her face as he wheezed. She saw the glint of metal in his free hand as she brought hers up, the rock clenched firmly before she slammed it into his temple.

He tipped to the side as he yelled, his eyes unfocused, as his grip slipped from her throat. She gasped in air, easing the fog from her vision as she tried to pull herself up the incline and away from him. Her heart was about to vacate the spot in her throat it had jumped into, and she couldn't even see _straight_ with how hard her blood was pumping. He straightened himself, his face even angrier than it had been before, ignoring her kicking legs and grabbing her arm when she went to hit him again. He crawled back up the short space she had gained in her attempt to get away, his legs crushing hers to stop her kicking. He was holding her one arm down as she violently thrashed and bucked, the knife in his other hand, and she reacted before she could even think about it.

She pulled the quill from her pocket, twisted her fist, and slammed the sharp point into his shoulder. He yelled out, his monstrous upper weight collapsing down towards her as his knife hit her cheek. She pulled her fist back, feeling the blade of the knife burn across her skin, and slammed the point of the quill into his cheek. Once, twice, four times, as he screamed and flung himself back, his knife slashing across her jaw. She yanked her other arm free, shoving the knife away from her, and throwing all her weight behind her fists as she smashed them into his chest. His arms shot out, spinning for balance, and she did it again, forcing him onto his back.

She jerked her legs out from under his, easier now when his weight was on his back, and pulled a foot back to slam it forward between his legs. She never would have thought that a man so large could scream so high as he fell back from trying to get himself up, his hands automatically reaching to cradle himself. Hermione jumped to her feet, her legs protesting, and grabbed her bag before she started to run. There was a trail of bananas that marked her descent but she didn't have time to check if she had lost anything else. He grabbed her trainer as she passed him, but she caught herself on the ground, kicking her foot forward and taking off again.

Her vision was a blur of green and brown within her panic, whizzing past trees and ignoring the branches that slapped into her skin. _Poundpoupoupoupoundpou_ was the painful racing of her heart, her shoulders slamming off bark as her feet tripped over rocks and roots, but she hardly noticed. _Poupoupoundpoupou_ as she gasped for air, screaming, when something grabbed her arm and snapped her sideways.

She was on a downward collision with the ground, no matter how quickly her arms shot out for balance or her feet searched for purchase. She hit the earth on her back, something colliding with her ribs, and a heavy weight tried to relocate her stomach into her chest. She wheezed in a breath, wide brown eyes meeting wide grey, and the point of a blade brushed the tip of her nose.

Hermione's breathing shuddered as she stared up at Malfoy, her grip loosening and then tightening again on her quill. He had a cut above his eyebrow but it wasn't fresh, the blood dark and clotted as he cocked his head at her. His eyebrows drew together, wrinkling his forehead, and she couldn't remember a time when Malfoy had ever looked at her so closely before.

"Granger?" His voice came out raspy and harsh.

"Malfoy?" The rasp was there, but she sounded clogged up too, which went with the tight dryness in her throat.

"Say something." The fact that he was checking to make sure it was her meant that it must have really been him. The man on the mountain hadn't bothered with any small talk.

"Get the knife out of my face?" She couldn't work up the anger or even annoyance in her tone for him pulling her like that, sitting on top of her, and holding a dagger to her face. She was too panicked and afraid from the first time, from the real threat.

She choked a little on her inhale, startling when she realized she was crying. Malfoy was staring at the tears on her face, or maybe the blood she found when she reached up to wipe them away. There was a part of her that hated him seeing her cry, but she was too lost in the bigger part. The part that was pushing her heartbeat to an inhuman level, that was causing her vision to still be blurry from the tears and panic and fear.

"Was that a question?" He was cocking his head, his eyes narrowed on hers.

"Get _off of me_!" Her voice broke over the words and she swiped at her face again, her hand shaking. She never wanted to be without magic again in her life. Not once, not ever. She had always been strong with her magic. She had always been protected on some level.

Malfoy glanced down at the quill she had half raised in threat, the man's blood staining half of it. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her, before nodding to himself. His palm hovered over her forehead but then he thought better of it, likely from the sight of her blood, and he used her shoulder to push himself off of her. She felt like she could finally breathe as he looked around them, pressing his back against a tree. She pushed up to look around them as well, her knees weak as she forced herself to her feet.

"Why did you do that?" She still wasn't positive that it was really him, but by the look he was aiming at her, he wasn't sure about her either.

"Why were you running?" He looked filthy, though she doubted she looked much better after rolling down part of a mountain and fighting for her life. His hair was limp and there were streaks of dirt on his face and arms. His clothes needed to be washed two days ago, at least.

"He-- We have to _go_! If he--"

Malfoy jumped forward like he was pulled by a magnet. "You were followed?"

"Yes. He was a bit injured when I left him, and we should have heard him by now, but I'm not taking any chances. He's not a half-giant, but he's big and he has a knife," she explained, and this seemed to be enough for Malfoy, who didn't look like he was going to stick around, dagger or not. "What was the map of Africa?"

He slowed for only a step as they both started walking quickly in the opposite direction of the mountain. "Wh-- You answer that, Granger. You're--"

"You're the one with clones!" She was starting to get a headache, probably from all the blood that had been pounding and everything that had robbed her oxygen. The quill was still tightly held in her fist, and she looked behind her every few steps.

"That you made!"

" _Why_ would I _ever_ make _two_ of you?" she asked, getting a sharp look from Malfoy as they headed down a small slope. "Malfoy--"

"Thrace."

Silence fell between them for a while, both of them seemingly satisfied with the other person being their true identity. They both looked around them at every sound or whenever things were too quiet for too many seconds. The more noises they heard, the faster they went, until both of them were jogging through the trees. She wanted to get into a clearing as soon as possible, preferably somewhere where there were people. She wanted to take a bath and scrub her skin, and she wanted to ignore the fact that her life had come to the point where she felt just a little safer standing next to Draco Malfoy than alone. It could have been a mean old man that barely moved - two was still better than one, and a dagger beat just having a quill any day.

"You didn't make him?"

It took her a while to understand what he meant as she huffed for air, turning sideways for better balance down a steep hill. "No. How would I, let alone why? No magic."

"Where did you find it?"

"Just in the forest." Basics had to do when she couldn't _breathe_ properly. Here

she was, gasping for oxygen, and he wanted to _chat_.

"Where were you taking it?"

She stared at the ground they were covering, not wanting to admit it and not knowing why it mattered if she did. "To get help."

He was silent for several breaths, and she didn't look over at him. It was just rock, dirt, and bushes now. She could feel the wind from the sea against her injured face and knew she would have to clean it off before people saw her. She had to make sure no one became suspicious of the woman trampling around the mountain, so walking into a village with dirt and blood all over her face wasn't an option.

"Was there only one bloke you were running from?"

"Yes," she confirmed, and he muttered a curse in response.

Hermione looked at him until the olive tree branch he had pushed aside swung back and smacked off her forehead. She karate chopped it on instinct, before shoving it away with the other hand, letting out a pathetic, whiny sound as pain ached in her chopping hand. Hermione was definitely not a Karate Kid.

"Did you see someone else?" she asked, shaking out her hand, but he didn't answer.


	9. Part Nine

**May 10; 8:18am**

Hermione had hardly slept during the night, lying on her side to avoid the scratch and friction burns on her stomach and back, at the top of one of the cliffs that fell into the sea. Any small noise, and she was on her feet searching through the darkness for movement. She kept quiet and counted the stars, her bruises, the bug bites, and ran the pads of her fingers across the deep cuts on her cheek and jaw. It had left her a lot of time to think, and that wasn't something she ever took for granted.

She needed to call Harry. She didn't know if the Ministry would take her off the case or not, but the job was too big for her alone. It took a lot for her to admit when she wasn't capable of something, but the man on the mountain had proven that to her. If she'd had magic, it would have been a different story, but she had been lucky to escape with her life when a quill and rock was her only means of defense. Malfoy and the idea of bad people she had never encountered she could handle. Very real bad people, her lack of _anything_ all that useful, and a bag of bananas, was not something she could handle alone. The plant could be anywhere, on any one of the Islands, and she was only one person. As much time as it would take to bring the Ministry out and catch them up, it would take more time for her to do this by herself.

She was still hoping Harry and Ron didn't come. Harry had become an Auror and still found himself in dangerous situations, but this was something else. This was like searching for the Horcruxes, and dangerous magic with dangerous people. The ward around the island - or all of the Islands, she didn't know yet - robbed them of magic. While the Ministry would bring the supplies and money they needed, she wasn't sure how well they could defend themselves without magic, or how well wizards could handle a gun. Harry and Ron didn't need this. They were all supposed to be living relatively stress-free lives and moving on from the war. She wasn't supposed to be dragging them into dangerous situations like this.

Hermione found five tourists who were willing to let her use their mobile, but none of them could get any service. The phones were dead in a caf, a restaurant, and a souvenir shop. She thought it was a combination of horrible timing and bad luck until she walked into the second hotel. The receptionist cut off her phone-yapping the second Hermione walked through the door, pulling the receiver from her ear and hitting a few buttons on the box. Hermione stopped walking, watching her listen to the phone, pull on a wire, and call out to another employee while waving the phone. _Morto_ , the same as what she had heard all morning. _Dead_.

**1:13pm**

"I'm not going down." She didn't think the plant would be inside a volcano anyway - if it were, it was going to take a lot more than what she had to get it.

"Why don't you just pretend I'm Potter and I'm asking you to."

There hadn't really been an _agreement_ of any kind. She had been pacing around the edge of the village, wondering about the possibility of running into the man again, when Malfoy had walked past her. Seeing as how she wasn't about to let him get ahead of her, she had started walking as well. They didn't speak or even look at one another, but they hadn't strayed more than a few meters since they left the town. The only communication they had shared before now was him laughing at her as she huffed for air on the hike up another mountain. She had tried to laugh at him a half hour later when he was huffing as much as her, but it came out as more of a wheezing-gasp that was more insulting to her than to him.

"Because I would need you to be under a Illusionment Charm, for my memories to be manipulated, and to be put under a Confundus Charm, before I could possibly believe that you were Harry. Or that Harry would even ask that of me. If you want to be Harry, though..." She ushered towards the large opening of the volcano and he glowered at her.

"Isn't this the part where you hold me back, crying about how I don't always have to be the hero?"

Hermione glared, wondering if he could read her thoughts from last night. "Feel free to jump right in. I would never mistake you for Har--"

"Keep working at it, Granger. Maybe one day you'll come close to _hurting my feelings_."

" _What_?" She slapped her hand over her heart. "You have _feelings_?"

He shot her a look, shifting his robe-turned-bag on his shoulder. "Very violent ones, and usually regarding you."

"I'm honored." She started walking back down the mountain, avoiding the smoking fumaroles and plugging her nose from the new intensity of sulfur.

"I'll be sure to tell the Wizengamot that."

**4:42pm**

The good thing about walking with Malfoy was that there were two of them and that was a lot better if anyone dangerous shoved up. The problem was that there were a lot of problems, including that she suspected he would take off running the second the guy showed up. It was like that saying - you don't have to outrun the bear, you just have to outrun the person you're with. Her only hope was that he would leave behind the dagger that he, for some reason, had on his person.

One of the many other problems was that he made her more paranoid than comforted to any degree. Any slight tilt of his shoulders in a different direction, and she _knew_ he had spotted the plant or something that would lead him there. She was constantly jumping and ready to spring into action.

"So why are you trying to get the plant?" She felt this was a good question to ask since the worst he could say would only be confirming what she had considered a possibility.

He paused from smacking away bugs to look at her, his left eye twitching and his jaw tightening. "This temporary... _partnership_ does not make you privy to my motives, or make us friends."

"Thank God," she snapped. "But I've been forced to...team up with you for the sake of protection, since there happens to be a killer on the island, and something...else is going on, so I need to know y--"

"You don't need to know anything."

"I refuse to partner with you if you're trying to get the plant for--"

"Not so confident on getting it first? And no one--"

"Of course I'm going to get it first! But I can't see helping you, even if it's to help myself, if you--"

"So self-righteous."

"--back Voldemort, or try to change the outcome of the war--"

"Back-- _Resurrect_ \--" He looked like she had just showed him proof he wasn't a pure-blood.

"Don't act like you didn't know it was rumored to do that!"

"Did you not read the trial reports? Or do you always come to conclusions without all the facts? But I suppose I'm a _Malfoy_ , so that must mean I want to bring the Dark Lord--"

"Why would I waste time reading your trial report that is most likely a completely fabricated piece of Trelawney crap to keep you out of prison?"

"Veritaserum really leaves room for fabricated rubbish, doesn't it? But I bet you--"

"Oh, I have to complete my education, recover from a war, bury friends, and a million other more important things, but - hey! Let me read Malfoy's tri--"

"--so instead you make--"

"--still call him the _Dark Lord_ and me a _Mudblood_ , so I'm really going to believe--"

"Who cares! It's just a _word_!"

Hermione gaped at him, at his arms thrown out wide and his shoulders in a half-shrug. "A..." she started, but the rest left her in a gurgle of saliva and a stuttering tongue.

"It's like fuck, or cake, or--"

" _Cake? Cake_? Are you _out_. Of your. Mind?"

"I've said it a thousand times, it doesn't _mean_ anything! The use of a word does not make--"

"I've been there for half the times you've said it, there was just a war fought over it. It's a word that symbolized racism, that _you taught me_ , and it doesn't _mean anything_?" She wanted to hit him. She wanted to slap him across the head to try and connect some brain cells.

"You're the one who gives it that power! I've been saying Mudblood since I could _speak_ to describe what you are, that--"

"You gave it that power! You gave it that power when you got that tattoo on your arm, put on a hood and mask, and joined a group willing to kill for it! It is not a _word_ . It was never. About. The _word_! And here you stand saying that I judge you on baseless assumptions! What about the baseless hate that caused you to happily join a group content on killing people for _no reason_!"

He stared back at her, his hands smacking against his sides when he dropped his arms. The red in his face was slowly fading, the vein at his temple disappearing into smooth skin. He was rigidly straight and unmoving, but his eyes remained on hers. She felt like she was falling apart a little, the angry rush of her breath pushing around all the emotions between them. She felt like pacing, shaking out her arms, throwing something at him - anything just to _move_ and break the hard tension in her chest.

"Nothing to say?" She sounded bitterly amused.

"Nothing that's going to matter to you." He didn't sound like anything. Vanilla, ice, white walls. He sounded plain.

She hated it. She wanted him to give her a reason. She wanted him to somehow justify everything, right then, at that moment. Not even just the things that he had done, but everything they all had had to do. She wanted him to give her a reason for Fred, Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, and all the others. She wanted him to tell her what was so important that could justify how Harry didn't stop jumping up for battle at an anxious look or a knock on the door. Why her parents would never fully trust her again, why _nothing_ would ever be the same again.

She wanted him to break. She wanted to break all of them - all the stoic faces that were led towards Azkaban after the war, his father's face still etched the same after his charity donations, the people who didn't celebrate on the anniversary of Harry's win and Voldemort's death. She blamed all of them, and she wanted them to _break_.

Maybe it was impossible, what she was asking for. Maybe Malfoy knew that too. There was nothing that could justify hatred, murder, or war. There was nothing that could make it okay.

"You're right. You hated people, you hated me, for no reason other than--"  
"I hated you because that's what I knew! It's like tying your laces, or dressing

yourself, or holding a for--"

"Hate?" she asked, sounding like she felt - like it was the most ridiculous things she'd ever heard.

"Yes! It's that fucking easy! I was taught it and there was nothing to prove it wrong. I--"

"So it made sense that a 'Mudblood' beat you in grades? That--"

"That didn't matter! Don't be so presumptuous to think I hated you on your blood alone!"

"I'm not talking about hating me! I'm talking about a Mug--"

"Yes, you are! Isn't that what this is about? You crying in the Gryffindor tower because I _hurt your feelings_ with a word you didn't even understand? That you still don't understand."

"I understand it perfectly well, Malfoy; you're the one who isn't getting it! And, unlike with you, it isn't always about me! It's--" She cut off as he picked up his fallen robe, pulling it over his shoulder. "Walking away? How unsurprising--"

"I've wasted enough of my life on this shit."

**May 14; 8:29pm**

Hermione thanked the owner of the tiny souvenir shop and he waved her off, frowning as he wiped the counter down. He hadn't accepted her offer for help, and she wasn't even sure if he understood what she had meant at first, but once she'd started trying to sell different things to the tourists, he had stopped trying to kick her out.

Her arms were tired from so many hand gestures, trying to break through the language barriers, but most of the tourists had understood that she thought every single thing in the shop was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. Very few had walked away without buying something she had shoved towards them. After a few hours, as payment for her help, she had slid two lighters, a postcard, soap, snacks, a water bottle, and a hopeful expression across the counter. He had glared at her before putting it all in a bag, throwing it at her, and angrily pointing towards the door.

She didn't think he would be letting her back in his store again, but at least she had some supplies. She had yet to find toothpaste, though, and the only possible weapon in his shop had been a shark's tooth - which helped her feel better about her panicked shark swim on her first night. As hard as it had been since she arrived on Vulcano, she was thankful that there was civilization or it would have been a lot worse. Up until today, and not including the hotel cart, public bathrooms had been her main source for water, toilet paper, and soap.

The locals were catching onto her now, but she would be leaving the island soon, anyway. She had climbed up the highest mountain yesterday, staring into the largest crater she had ever seen, and had had to spiral down the mountain to check everywhere, since there was no way she was climbing up and down. She would take all of the staircases she had had to ascend to reach the Gryffindor common room over the steep and rough terrain of volcano mountains any day. Preferably yesterday, at that.

There was one section she had to check to the West and then-- Hermione narrowed her eyes at a bobbing head of blond hair as it emerged from a row of trees. She had only seen Malfoy twice since their argument and always alone. She had never seen the man he was now walking with, with Malfoy or not, but Malfoy looked a lot healthier than he had the last time. He looked clean, less pale, and he was smirking. The two of them turned, walking down the narrow pathway towards the sea, and she was temporarily taken back by the sight of Malfoy's smirk turning into a grin. That could _never_ be a good sign.

**May 15; 2:41pm**

She had been having a fairly good day until now - or, at least, as good as it got here. She had checked the last of the island, and though she didn't find anything, her almost-killer hadn't found her again, either. She had gone to the Post Office - which made up two small rooms in the same tiny building as the island's doctor - prepared to trade half a limb for stamps, when the woman laughed at her and kindly told her in English that she could send her postcard along.

Which meant that whatever freak thing was happening to the phones whenever Hermione got near them would no longer deter her from reaching her parents. After reassuring them that she was fine, she asked them to call Harry and tell him things that were bound to be confusing to them. At least Harry would still know that she was stuck on the island without magic and that there was some sort of ward less than a mile from land. The Ministry would be here in a few days, she figured, or at her next destination in Lipari.

It wasn't until now, with the man screaming at her in the middle of the village, that her day started to turn bad. Suddenly, her body hurt and the bug bites burned with need for her to scratch, she was tired and hungry, and she hated her clothes. He had ignored her smiling and polite greetings, had given her dirty looks as she tried to ask him what he had shown Malfoy, and had scoffed at her when she put on a haughty expression that included a smirk and a raised eyebrow. When she kept following him, he had turned and started screaming at her, and though she was lost on what he was saying, she understood that it wasn't anything she wanted to hear. Especially since he was making very interesting gestures around his head related to her hair or her sanity. People were beginning to stare, drawing far too much attention to her, so she turned and walked away instead. The man abruptly stopped yelling, and when she looked back, he was already gone.

**4:01pm**

Malfoy jerked the paper back, just before her hand could grab it, holding it above his head as he stared down at her. He raised an eyebrow, rolling the paper into his fist, despite knowing she couldn't reach it now if she pulled him down and jumped at the same time. Stupid obnoxiously tall people.

"I would say it was a good try, but it really wasn't," he drawled, dropping his hand with the paper safely clenched in his fist.

She stared at it greedily, sniffing at him, which really wasn't a good idea since they were standing by a sulfuric pit of mud. "Still up to your old games, hm, Malfoy?"

He glanced up at the sky like he was thinking or begging a higher power for something. "If I'm still up to them, they aren't really old, are they?"

"Unless they--"

"I have a lot of old games, twit. You'll have to be more specific." She hated when he did that - cut her off - and he did it a lot.

"I--"

"Not _too_ specific either, Granger. I don't like to torture myself with your presence for too long."

"No, you just like torturing _other_ people."

Malfoy had looked pleased with himself when she spotted him standing by the mud baths, part of his good mood leaving when she joined him, and no trace of it left now. She almost felt guilty, in the way that Hermione always felt guilty for being mean, because she knew from Harry that Malfoy didn't seem to enjoy torturing people at all. Still, she was angry, and he was the reason for it.

"Only when I'm imagining..." His mouth stayed open for a moment after he trailed off, lips forming around letters, before he closed it.

"Imagining what?" She had a feeling.

He scowled at her, glancing over her head. "What do you want?"

She almost didn't let it go, but he had stopped himself, so she would give it to him. "I want you to tell me what you told that man."

"What?"

"Don't play stupid with-- Well, I know that's a very hard thing to ask of you--"

"I swear, Granger, if you don't get to--"

"What are you going to do? Insult me? I'm terrified."

"You should be. My insults aren't just _words_ , Granger. They--"

"Oh, so your threat was to belittle a previous argument, argue about it again, and then...walk away some more? Well, I'm definitely scared now, Malfoy. There's--"

"Careful, Granger. Those words are very hurtful. I'm likely to hold this against you forever. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're a horrible human being for--"

"Fighting for peace, as opposed to--"

"You know nothing of what I fought for," he snarled, the careless attitude gone. She blinked up at him for a moment. "I'm pretty sure I--"

"You don't."

"Enlighten me, then." There was a laughter in her voice that had the vein coming out across his temple again. "Pure-blood rights, no matter the cost? World domination, Voldemort's fav--"

His hands shot out, connecting with her shoulders as he shoved her. Her own flashed up, reaching on instinct for anything to stop her fall, and wrapped like vices around Malfoy's wrists. She closed her eyes, expecting her back to hit the ground as she soared downwards, jerking up once, before she smacked against something.

Something soft and _doughy_ that enveloped her in a thick, warm, gooey blanket. Malfoy fell on top of her, sinking her deeper into the warm mud, her face scrunching up as she practically _felt_ the bacteria eating her skin.

She curled her fingers harder, digging her nails into his skin before shoving blindly at his chest. He wrenched a hand away from her, pressing it into her chest and sinking her farther down, so she grabbed his shirt and yanked him down with her. It was hard to have much power in the mud, but she tried to turn them, to push him down as hard as he pushed her down. He struggled back, but it ended up being him who pulled both of them up, her grip tight on his shirt. He shoved her away from him as she lifted her hands to wipe at her face, her stomach turning, and opened her eyes to shove him right back.

He was frantically wiping at his face, revealing streaks of white in a clumpy sea of brown, and would have fallen into the mud again had it not been for the rock wall behind him. People were laughing around them, unaware that the two of them were livid or just not caring. Hermione threw mud into his face the second he opened his eyes, reaching up to wipe more off of her own before she dared to open her mouth to speak.

He grabbed her shirt, the fabric squelching away from her skin as he jerked her towards him, his hand blindly smacking into the side of her face. She shoved it away, but he came back again, wrapping his fingers into her hair as he wiped his face with the other hand. She shoved back against his steady push, feeling some of her hair tear from the scalp just before she was head under in the mud again. She punched out an arm, connecting with some part of his body with a blow that would have had much more favorable effects had it not had to shoot through a field of mud first.

She clawed his shirt and skin instead, pinching and twisting it between her fingers until his other hand reached down to pull it away. She couldn't _breathe_ , her head beginning to ache from the lack of air as she struggled against his hold. He finally pulled her up again, her mouth flying open, despite all her will not to let it, instinct demanding oxygen more. She sucked in a breath, three, but she didn't let it deter her from slamming another fist of mud at Malfoy. He turned his head, the mud smacking him on the side of his face and head, before he attempted shoving her under again.

She kneed him instead, jerking it up high and hard, and hitting his pubic bone. He growled through his teeth, and she tried to spit out the mud that had dripped into her mouth, aiming it in his general direction as she grabbed his hair.

"You're such a--" she began to yell, cutting off on a grunt when he almost succeeded at pushing her under again.

She yanked his hair, smashing mud into his face and rubbing it in, causing his free hand to stop tugging at the hand in his hair and grab her other instead. His fingers were like metal bolts digging into her delicate bones as she tried to launch herself at him, but he twisted her instead, angling her arm into a position not suitable for the human skeleton. They both slipped and slid in the sulfurous mud bath, choking on mud, oxygen, and stench. He jerked her in a stuttering spin as he shoved himself around her, tearing out hair and nearly breaking her arm, before he released it. He shoved his hand into the back of her head as his other palm hit between her shoulder blades, pushing her down into the mud again.

Hermione flailed, reaching back to dig her nails into his wrist and kicking back against his legs. She must have hit something vital by the way his grip slackened, and she was never one not to take advantage of a good opportunity. Spinning herself around, she pushed up out of the mud, kicking at one of Malfoy's legs as he tried to get a grip again. She gulped in oxygen, grabbing the back of his neck as she slid over, flinging herself at his side. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her back, but she slammed an elbow into his back before he could succeed. He grunted, so she did it again, trying to climb on top of his back, but his arm around her waist and grip on her shoulder was preventing her from getting very far.

She kicked her leg out behind him, bringing it back to hit the back of his calf, and then drawing it up another inch to slam the side of her foot into the back of his knee. He buckled and she took her chance, throwing her weight onto as much of him as she could get to. He fell forward, dragging her back around him, but not before she shoved both hands into the back of his head and pressed his face into the mud. She curled her fingers into his hair, trying with all her strength to keep him under, but he was stronger. Getting a grip under his feet, he shoved his face up, gasping for air.

He used his arm around her waist and the pressure of his shoulders to push her backwards into the mud, a palm to the forehead sending her head back under. She yanked on his hair, trying to pull him down as well as she kicked out at him. Another set of hands grabbed the back of her shirt, tugging her up, and Malfoy's arm wrenched away from her.

Hermione got her feet under her, sputtering and gagging from the intensity of the rotten egg smell in the mud bath. She wiped at her face, the mud coming off in clumps and sheets as the hands continued to drag her backwards. She spit out the disgusting, bacteria-ridden hot mud in her mouth, opening her eyes. Malfoy was shoving a man away from himself before climbing out of the mud, looking every inch a brown blob monster. The hands dropped away behind her and she turned towards them, looking up at the two men at the edge who were holding their hands out. She grabbed them, listening to someone yelling behind her, and had to try several times before their grips held.

They pulled her out and to her knees at the rocky ledge of the bath, and she pushed herself to her feet, feeling like she weighed at least twice her normal size. One of the men was yelling at her in Italian, and she muttered an apology, someone else still yelling at Malfoy like they were misbehaving children. She supposed they had just acted like it, but he had been the one to push her in and try to suffocate her in mud.

She started walking to the sea, clumps of mud falling off of her as she absently nodded at the man still yelling at her. Whatever skin disease she was bound to get would be worth pushing Malfoy's pure-blooded big head into hot filth and rubbing it into his face. He probably derived some sick pleasure from shoving her into mud. He probably thought it was _fitting_ to--

"I am sick of you accusing me of shit," he hissed, and she jumped, looking at him as he sailed past her to the water's edge.

"You better hurry!" she called. "You don't want that seeping in to your blood. Muddy blood, that--"

He turned, raising a finger to point at her. He looked ridiculous and she almost laughed at him, despite looking the same. "I didn't tell that bloke _anything_ , but I am shocked you didn't fail at everything you've ever done in life if you can't figure out _why_ someone wouldn't want to talk to _you_. Keep pushing, though, Granger. Maybe the next time I have your face in the mud, I won't stop pushing back."

She stared at him, tripping over her words for a moment. "Even if you didn't tell him not to tell me anything, how would I know that? It's not like you haven't been pulling those same tricks since this started!"

He didn't answer or acknowledge her, and she huffed her way to the water.

**7:34pm**

Hermione stood only a few steps from the edge of the ferry, clutching her bag tightly, everything important safely stuffed into the zipper part. The map couldn't fit, however, so she settled for putting it at the bottom of the bag, under a load of bananas.

\- 172 -

She had stared at the two ferries on the shore, one heading to Millazo and the other going deeper into the Islands to Lipari. She already knew what would happen if she tried to go back to Millazo, but she had to try going to another island. The plant wasn't on Vulcano, and she hated the idea of staying there until the Ministry arrived when she could be searching another island. She just didn't know if the barrier would let her.

She didn't stop bracing herself until she was on the ferry docks, the shore lit up in front of her with at least three times the amount of buildings as in the main village on Vulcano. The only thing that reeked of sulfur now was the people who had left the other island, but especially herself. She stood there for a long moment as two other passengers got off the boat, looking over her shoulder towards the island she had left. The volcanos climbed the sky, only a few lights blinking like tiny stars, and she breathed in relief.

**May 17; 12:11pm**

Hermione gave a curious look to the man walking next to her, explaining that the water was warmer than she would think for May due to a warmer climate. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from snapping at him for thinking she was an idiot. He reminded her increasingly of Cormac McLaggen the longer she had to deal with him, but she gritted her teeth and dealt with it.

The mobile he had been loudly yapping on had lost service when she got close enough to ask him to use it. She had accepted his offer to walk around and try to find service, though she didn't think they would find any, and that had been when he'd started talking about a grotto he had found a mile away from the city. Since it was the first time Hermione had ever gotten any help about mysterious locations on any of the islands, she had jumped on the opportunity for him to take her there.

Now she was worried he would try something, since the guy was obviously a complete creep. If he licked his lips or winked at her one more time, she might be forced to shudder in revulsion. Why he didn't seem to mind the mosquito bites peppering her skin or the sulfur wafting off her, she didn't know. Why he thought constantly scratching his nipples was attractive, she also didn't know.

Hermione could admit that despite having two males as best friends, she knew very little about the way men worked and why. It might have been because her most serious relationship had only lasted a few months, but she was leaning towards men being a different species that took years to either understand or accept their...ways. She hadn't found herself getting the attention of any males very often, at least not to the point where she bothered to notice, but she usually either found these sort of things flustering or bizarre.

Cormac Clone - she couldn't remember his name, and she doubted he remembered hers - was reaching out towards her shoulder when the world tilted. It didn't even _tilt_ so much as _flip_ over. Her vision field narrowed into a tunnel, and she stumbled forward as the ground seemed to slip out from under her feet. The colors melted, objects morphing around her and all of it spinning. Her stomach turned with it as the ground stretched up on her left, and the trees expanded to a field of green beneath her feet. They rotated, sky blue in front of her, then the fluctuating trees, swirling brown.

"Hey. Hey...all right there?"

"I..." She had to swallow to stop a reappearance of bananas on the sky. "No."

"Do you want to go back?"

"Yes, now." The world continued spinning, tilting, morphing, and she felt the trees -- _no, it must be ground, it has to be_ \-- skim her kneecaps before he pulled her up.

He was talking to her, but she couldn't listen. She was too sick with her head on the verge of exploding. It felt like she was stuck in the vortex for hours, but then, suddenly and all at once, it was gone. With a final lurch, the world rearranged itself, going back to the way she had always known it. She pushed a fist against her mouth, taking deep and clean breaths as his arm brought her closer to him - it wasn't helping her stomach any.

"Are you going to be sick?"

"No, I'll be fine. I got...the spins."

"Is that normal?"

"Never."

"I can bring you back to your hotel. Or we can go to mine until you feel better."

She pulled away from him, clearing her throat. "I think I'll be okay. I can get back to my hotel all right."

"I'll--"

"Really, it's okay. Maybe you can bring me another time. To the cave," she rushed out the last bit, clarifying that it wasn't his hotel room she was talking about.

What _was_ that? That had never happened to her before, and it had come on so suddenly. Maybe she was eating too many bananas. Her current diet couldn't be that healthy. She needed meat and vitamins - she never wanted to feel that spinning sensation again.

They made small talk until they walked back into the city, Hermione trying to get her stomach under control again. She made her excuses, claiming she had to meet a friend, despite that she had been free before, but he seemed to accept it. He took her hand, slipping something cool into her palm as he said goodbye. _If you change your mind_. Hermione scrunched up her nose at the key in her palm.

**2:21pm**

The feeling hit her suddenly, her hands smacking into the sides of her head as she closed her eyes. The darkness helped, but she still felt like she was spinning, stumbling dizzily. She tried to hold still, taking deep breaths and concentrating. The ground beneath her feet, the trees around her, the sky above - it did nothing. Her sense of direction was lost within the twirl as she bent over, gagging so hard her shoulders heaved.

_Out, out, out_ , she chanted to herself, moving backwards. She got three steps, then everything stopped, her head settling. She opened her eyes to stare at the forest in front of her, a hand remaining on her head as the other dropped to press against her stomach.

It was the same spot or close to it. It must have been magic, though she didn't know why it hadn't affected the guy she'd come with the first time. This was different, though - the phones that died when she went near them, the barrier that only seemed to stop her and Malfoy from leaving the Islands, the weird clone, and now this. There was obviously some very strange magic on the Aeolian Islands that she had to be careful of - especially since it seemed to be targeting her.

The realization caused goosebumps to rise along her shoulders and arms. This magic was powerful, having stripped her of her own, so for it to be specifically targeting her was a very, very bad thing. She didn't trust it for a second and she couldn't help but look around her, her paranoia convincing her that it was watching her now. For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt very small.


	10. Part Ten

**7:29pm**

Lipari was a fairly large island from what she could gather. On Vulcano, she had been able to stay within close distance to one of its villages, but she wouldn't be able to do the same here. Compared to this place, Vulcano was a barren landscape, but Hermione realized she was living on a survivor mentality when she thought this meant more food instead of more problems - like wild animals, thick forests, and an easier time getting lost.

She was supposed to have arrived back near the city two hours ago. She wanted to start looking by easing her way back and forth from the coast through to the other end of the island. She also wanted to attempt to get to the grotto tomorrow once her stomach was empty, and to stay close to the city the Ministry would arrive in first after coming from Vulcano.

Several hours later, and all she _really_ wanted was _water_. She was contemplating an African Rain Dance she was so thirsty, so by the time she heard the rush of water, she was thanking everything she could think of as she ran towards it. She tripped over roots, whacked her arms against trees, and nearly had her eye taken out by a branch before she got there. Falling to her knees next to the river, she dipped a hand in as well as her empty bottle, cupping water in her hand and bringing it to her mouth. The sip was hardly enough, and before she could even think about it, her entire head was submerged. She gulped in greedy mouthfuls, picturing a flood of water exploding down a desert in her bliss.

She was just about to open her mouth to another gulp when something _shifted_. The water was no longer flowing across her face, her hearing unclogged, and her head went cold from...the air. Hermione snapped her eyes open as wind brushed her cheek, the river gone before her. It had been replaced by trees and grass, and not even the ones she had seen across the river. Her hair hung wetly in her face, dripping down into the dirt as it stuck to her fingers. She gaped at the spot in front of her, slowly pulling her face up from its close proximity to the ground.

The tree in front of her was bent awkwardly towards the sky, and she was pretty sure it had not been there before. She hadn't even really looked, though - she had just seen the water and acted on need. She straightened herself out, capping the water bottle, watching the proof that the river had been there swish around. She dropped it absently in her bag, turning to look around her, and jumping when someone snorted behind her.

"Do you normally drink like an animal, Granger? Were you trying to build a dam?"

Hermione turned quickly, spinning from her knees and onto her bum, meeting Malfoy's eyes several meters away. He was leaning against a tree, arms crossed with a sardonic lift to his brow. He looked angry, though she didn't know or care what she had done in five seconds to set him off. Probably just the sight of her, which she could understand since he had the same effect on her.

"What--"

"If you even think of blaming this on me as well, I'm going to drag you back to that river by your furry head and drown you in it."

Hermione pursed her lips, glaring at him as she turned back to her bag, drawing it up on her shoulder as she got to her feet. "If--"

"So you two know one another?" Her head snapped towards the other voice, finding another man standing to her left.

His hair was perfectly combed, though she didn't know why that was the first thing she noticed. His clothes were also clean, not a sign of a dirt on him. He was British, by his accent, short, plump, and unassuming. Hermione didn't trust him a bit, but she couldn't be blamed for that - she didn't have a good record with strangers on these Islands. She looked over at Malfoy, who was also staring at the other man, and he glanced at her as if feeling her eyes on him. Both eyebrows came up as his jaw tightened, before he looked back at the stranger, not seeming so sure of the bloke himself.

"We don't know how it happened. Mal..."

"Foy," the blond bit out.

"Right, sorry, mate. Malfoy said it was magic that we ended up here. I'm not too sure how I feel about that."

Hermione stared at him blankly before shoving her soaked curls back from her face. Whatever had brought them here must have been an enchantment like the path to the grotto, but where _here_ happened to be was another question. "It just happened?"

"A few hours ago for me. Malfoy showed up about one hour ago, maybe less."

"And you haven't left because...?"

"We thought we would stick around and have some tea. Perhaps a couple of drinks and a game or two of pick-up Quidditch."

"Your sarcasm gets us nowhere." Hermione raised her nose at him, glancing at the other man.

"Neither do your asinine questions," he snapped.

"We're stuck here," the stranger cut in.

Malfoy sneered at him, the expression on his face telling her that he thought the bloke was less intelligent than the goons he used to hang out with. _Crabbe, Crabbe_ , sounded in her head, and she quickly turned her attention elsewhere. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Bill."

"How pleb--"

"All right," Hermione cut in, shooting Malfoy a look. "How have you tried to get out?"

"I just thought I kept getting more lost, then Malfoy showed up. He walked away but ended up back here again, though he didn't turn around. We keep walking in circles."

Hermione glanced between Malfoy and Bill, her eyebrows drawing together. "Go on and try it, Granger. When you don't find a way out--"

"I'll find a way out," she muttered, hitching her bag to a different spot on her shoulder and looking around for a good spot before heading into the woods.

She walked for close to twenty minutes, before she entered the clearing on the opposite side from where she had left. Malfoy didn't appear to have moved since then, and she blinked at his smug look, then at Bill's wringing hands.

"Well, there must be some way to get out." The first time she could remember using that tone was when she was five and her cousin spit gum into her hair. It came naturally to her whenever there was any set of problems and a book to open to help solve them - Harry and Ron knew that better than she did.

"Why don't you use your wand," Malfoy snapped.

"Wand?"

Hermione ignored both of them. "I think we should all try walking in different directions. There's probably some sort of wall around this area, almost like the one around the Islands. When we reach it, it sends us to the opposite side of the enclosed space. One of us will go right and two will go left, with one of the two staying a few paces behind the first. If the second person sees the first disappear, then we'll know where the wall is, or if the person from the other side appears before the two, we'll also know."

"And what do you plan on doing when we find this _wall_ , Granger? _If_ we find it. Ask it nicely to disappear?"

"I don't know, but I'm not going to sit here and play dead. If you want to stay here forever, be my guest. I don't give up."

Malfoy looked up from his attempt to set the tree across from him on fire, looking like he wasn't sure if he wanted to smirk or sneer at her. "Thank Merlin, I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor with those little speech--"

"You're too much of a coward to have ever been sorted into Gryffindor, Malfoy."

"Thankfully for you, being a bitch must have been part of the requirements." "Yeah, sort of like the Slytherins and--"

"Are those gangs?" Bill asked, brushing off his pants as he stood.

"No," Hermione replied, simultaneously with Malfoy's opposite response.

"And we kill people with little sticks that shoot _colors_ , too," Malfoy continued, as if he were speaking to a child.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him he shouldn't be saying all of this to a Muggle, but closed it when she realized the Ministry would have to _Obliviate_ him anyway. Besides, she didn't know how she felt about Bill, and she wasn't entirely sure that he was, in fact, a Muggle. It was also interesting that he happened to have been there before either of them got there.

"It's getting dark, so we should do this now," she said instead, shoving her hair back again. "I'll walk...all right, well, Malfoy is obviously going that way, so I guess--"

"You and I will go this way?" Bill pointed in the opposite direction, taking three steps closer to it.

"Uh..." She looked over to where Malfoy's back had already disappeared and gave a nod. "Sure."

**May 18; 12:03am**

They tried everything they could think of after Malfoy had appeared in front of them from seemingly nowhere. They put their limbs through, knowing they were showing up on the other side, but the magic created the image of their arm to look like it was really extended before them - Hermione had thought they were off on the location of the wall until Bill touched her fingers from the other side, and she didn't see him in front of her. She and Bill tried walking through at the same time, climbing trees and jumping through, and Malfoy had climbed to the top of a tree, though she wasn't sure what he had done up there.

Their only luck came when they threw a stick through the wall, the bark carved off of it in lines from her quill to mark it, that didn't show up on the other side. Bill threw his shoelaces through, and they didn't find those either, but walking through while holding an inanimate object did nothing. Malfoy had snapped that they just needed to turn themselves into trees now, before swaggering off to be just as useless somewhere else.

There was only faint moonlight coming through the trees when they decided to try more in the morning. Bill had fallen asleep in minutes, but Hermione had been too paranoid of shifting tree branches to sleep. She didn't know if it was animals or Malfoy, but whatever it was, was freaking her out. When the branches had stopped creaking, she had finally lain down, close to sleep, when a new sound had brought her sharply into reality. She found Malfoy digging, wide chops and slashes of his dagger, on his knees next to the barrier. He had carved slashes into the trees next to the wall to mark its spot, and the combination of darkness and moonlight on his face made him look crazed. The dagger didn't help any.

Hermione had kept her distance, finding a spot in the woods with only dull sounds and neither of the men she didn't trust around.

**6:33am**

She was handing a banana to Bill when Malfoy walked into the clearing. His maniacal digging last night must have failed. The world was a dull blue around them, but she could still make out the dirt on his hands, black in the light, and the stains on his knees. He glared at both of them, heading towards the trees on the other side, when he came to a sudden halt. Hermione saw his body jerk as he stopped. She was looking over at him with her banana raised like a weapon, when she found his eyes on her bag.

She looked down, seeing bananas, a lighter, the water bottle, and her quill lying at the top. She picked up the quill, narrowing her eyes at him as grey flashed to brown. His sour expression had turned livid, and she carefully got to her feet in case he decided to attack.

"Granger, where did you get that water?" Every word sounded like it had been forced and dragged across his tongue.

"The river," she said slowly, glancing down at her water bottle.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his nostrils flaring as his jaw tightened. He took a deep breath, his eyes opening into a glare as he reached his hand out. Hermione's eyebrows drew together as they raised on her forehead, completely incredulous.

"It's called asking. If you think I'm going to give you any by you--"

"Do you think that would help?" Bill asked, looking at Malfoy.

Malfoy didn't even look at him. "Did you want us to die here, Granger? Or were you--"

"What are you talking about? Just ask and I'll--"

"If we all got here from drinking _that_ water, the only way--"

" _What_? I didn't know that!"

"H-- You were neck deep in that--"

"But Bill kept saying it just happened out of nowhere! He must have said that at least four times last night! I was assuming it was just the area!" Like the grotto.

"Ah, yes, Granger's famous fucking _assumptions_. The path to--"

"You didn't say anything either! I--"

"How hard was it to know? One minute you're fine, the next you're taking a drink and you're here! How can it possibly be difficult to _figure that out_?" he yelled, throwing his arms up like he was so blown away by the stupidity of the world compared to his intelligence.

"Because it was just the area before!”

"What are you _talking--"_

"And no one said anything about the riv--"

"Since we have the water, we can get out?"

She and Malfoy both leveled a look at him that had him raising his hands up and taking a step back. "I just wanted to know what the next step was."

Hermione exhaled heavily, bending down to snatch up her water bottle. She unscrewed the cap, sniffing at the water and swooshing it around to raise any scent towards her. She couldn't smell anything but cold plastic. Malfoy was still standing in front of her, scowling as he watched her, so she tentatively held it out for him to sniff as well. He raised an eyebrow, grabbing the bottle out of her hand and ignoring her sound of protest as he brought it to his nose. He seemed unsatisfied, raising it above his head to stare up at the water as he swirled the bottle in tight circles.

"What do you know about transportation potions or ingredients, Granger?"

Hermione sighed heavily, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "There are none."

**9:09am**

The water most likely contained a magic that brought them there, but they searched anyway. They looked for flowers, plants, leaves - anything that might have been used in the water -- but couldn't find anything. They tried throwing the water on the barrier, walking through with a stick that had been dipped in it, and several other things that were remotely possible.

"Bill, can you go to the other side and look for my fingers? There won't be enough water to cover all of us if it works, but one of us will go through and bring back enough water for the other two." She would go through, because she didn't trust either one of them to bring water back.

Bill nodded, turning to walk in the other direction as she watched him. Her impatience gave it a minute, before she dipped her fingers one-by-one into the bottle and stretched her arm out. She waited, staring at her feet and counting the pebbles around her, refusing to think of the possibility of nothing working. She was up to nineteen when warm fingers wrapped around her own. She was about to let out a sigh of frustration when Bill tugged, causing her to stumble through the barrier and into the other side.

She turned her head with a curious and annoyed expression that morphed to anger when she saw it was Malfoy. "Do--"

"Have you drunk the water?"

"Wh-- Obviously. Weren't you the one who said--"

"I mean since you _got here_."

"Oh. No, I was trying to conserve it, but--"

"You should stand in the wall. Sideways, right here, and drink the water."

She stared at him for a second before raising her eyebrow. "Wonderful explanation of _why_ I--"

He sent a sideways glance at the tree next to him - the adult version of rolling his eyes, as Hermione saw it. "Whatever magic is in the water and the wall might be confused, especially if--"

"You think it will break it."

"It might," he rushed out, like they were on a time limit and a voice was yelling the _blue wire or the red? Blue or red?_ in his head.

"Or it could kill me. We don't even know--" Taking in the magical properties of the water while standing in a magical enchantment was not the safest way to play with magic. She couldn't even begin to know what it might do, if anything at all.

"You'll feed the animals. Circle of life."

She snorted at him. "You do it."

"I'm the coward, remember?" he drawled, calm now as he grimaced at his dirty fingernails and she glared at him. "Leave the water bottle here."

"So you can get out? Circle of--"

"You don't have the stomach for--"

"I'll do it." Hermione jumped at Bill's voice a few meters behind her.

He walked up to them with a shrug as Hermione swallowed, shaking her head. "Anything can happen. It might even kill you, we don't--"

"I don't care. I don't want it to kill me, but I'm taking my chances. I just want to get out, and if this might be the way..." He turned sideways, sliding halfway through the barrier. "Let's try it."

"But if--"

Malfoy snatched the water bottle from her as Bill cupped his hands. "Off you go," Malfoy muttered, pouring the water into the man's outstretched hands, before Hermione grabbed the bottle back.

She didn't know if she should tell him to stop or wish him luck, so she stood there instead, her mouth open as she watched him. Bill ducked his head, tilting his hands to his mouth, and gulped the water down. Her heart jumped the second he disappeared, keeping a fast beat once she knew it had worked...in some way.

"We should check the clearing."

"Just do it, Granger."

"Just because he's gone doesn't mean--"

"It's the only thing that's done something since we got-- Just-- Give it to--"

She shot her arm away from his reaching hand, though it stopped before it got halfway there. "No, I'm going to do it, I--"

She gave him a curious look, turning to see what Malfoy was looking at that had shocked him so still, expecting the worst as Bill's corpse. She saw something large and black instead, flashing by through a couple of trees, before it was gone from sight.

"Was that a bear?" she whispered, just in case it hadn't already known they were there from scent, or heard them yelling before.

"I don't know," Malfoy whispered back.

She wondered if it had been trapped with them this whole time, jerking when she realized that they had seen it within the magic's image of trees they couldn't actually reach. She stepped forward, past the wall, and looked at the trees that were still bare of the markings they had put there on the other side.

"Malfoy, I think-- I think the wall broke."

She took another step and he followed directly after her, reaching out to run a long finger over unmarred bark. Hermione paused, the breath packed up in her throat escaping in a weird, clicking whine. "Where's Bill?"

"If that was even his name." Malfoy sounded like he was more likely to believe the last several hours never happened than the man's name being Bill.

"So you know?"

He gave her a sharp look, but it was quick, his eyes flashing back to where the bear had been. "Holding back more information?"

She rolled her eyes before giving the basics about her two attempts to reach the grotto, without telling him the location or where she had been headed. "The magic didn't affect the Muggle at all, and it's not a coincidence that it happened twice to me in the same spot. People leave these Islands all the time, but we can't. I think the magic either only effects magical people, or maybe...maybe people looking for the plant? Either way, I haven't seen it affect a single Muggle, so I don't know why it would start now."

She could see a bulge in Malfoy's cheek from where he was pressing his tongue into it, his fingers tapping on the tree beside him. She wondered if he was thinking when it looked like he hadn't heard her at all. She looked at the sky, feeling the wind blow her hair for the first time in hours, and then turned in a circle to look around them.

She switched her bag to the other shoulder, stretching her arm back to ease the ache, and felt awkwardness begin to creep in. A _see you later_ _?_ _Let's not do this again_ , or maybe a great, witty insult followed by a victorious walk-away?

Malfoy looked back at her, and they stared at one another, silent.

**12:02pm**

It was hard to keep separated when they were going in the same direction. She could hear him trampling through the forest several meters to her right and in front - she couldn't see him, but she knew it was him. He was a fast walker, though she tried to keep up with him. If he were behind her, it wouldn't have been an issue, but she definitely didn't want him to gain a lot of ground. If he was going to find the plant, she would be right behind him, without giving him a chance to take off with it.

"Malfoy," she yelled out, dropping her bag as she looked at the banana trees around her. She had contemplated not telling him, knowing she could catch up to him afterwards, but he was the one who came up with the idea that got them out of the magical prison. "Malfoy!"

"What?" He was very agitated - as if the sound of her walking had been angering him for the past few hours, and her calling his name was the sound that finally broke him.

She almost rethought it, jumping to grab a branch and pull it down to her height. "There are banana tree plants here."

He didn't answer, but he didn't start walking again, either. She jabbed her quill into the section where the banana bunch met the stem, biting her lip as she shoved it up more, trying to break through on the other side. These ones were bigger than those she had found on Vulcano, but she could see a few plants that didn't even have bananas on them yet. Purple and pink flowers hung from the stalk instead, vibrant against the green and brown shades of the trees, and they were the only reason she had spotted the food when she was passing by.

Malfoy emerged from between two trees, shoving a branch away from him with a perturbed look. She didn't think he would have even come if he weren't starving. She had caught him staring at the bananas in her bag a few times last night, and the robe he had carried his own in before had been empty. While she had been waiting for him to ask her for one, he had only grown more hungry - he hadn't eaten for at least a day, she figured.

She glowered as she shoved the quill through again, listening to bananas fall where Malfoy was standing. He was laying out his robe, tossing the bananas onto it as he sliced them off. When she got off these Islands, she was going to carry some sort of knife, or dagger, or _hatchet_ around with her at all times.

She glanced over at the sound of him lifting the robe over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the rather spectacular job she was doing of spearing her bananas to death. Her look and shift away from him when he began walking towards her, growling in his throat, clearly told him she thought he was weird and at least a little repulsive. He didn't stop, though, pulling out the dagger and giving her a look when she quickly pulled her hand off the stem. She closely watched the few inches of space between her fingers and the blade as he cut a banana bunch off easily.

He stepped back as they fell to the ground, pushing the dagger back into his waistband. "Even."

**4:48pm**

Exactly how much sleep did Malfoy get last night when he had been busy looking insane while digging a hole for his ferret self to crawl out of? She had hardly slept at all last night - what her father would call a snoozie, a sleep so light it could hardly be called sleep at all - and Malfoy had gotten less than that. He was still going, though, and far too fast for her tired legs and dry throat. If he didn't stop soon, she would have to, even if he gained a lot of ground over her.

Hermione gave a dirty look in the direction of his walking. He was probably doing it on purpose, knowing she was tired. She bet he was waiting for her to drop and give up, that way he could carry on for another mile or something, before resting too. He was trying to beat her, but Hermione was not someone easily beaten.

She rushed on with a new determination.

**May 19; 7:18am**

Everything felt heavy; her body was a rock, her head was a mountain, and her eyelids must have had little balls of weight sewed onto the edge of them while she had been sleeping. She didn't know how long she had slept, but it didn't feel like enough. Malfoy had kept going until it was dark, his feet scraping along as much as hers, when she had finally called it a night. Malfoy's footsteps had faded as she curled up on her cloak, and she wasn't sure if he had stopped a minute later, or if she had fallen asleep.

She needed to get up, seeing a glow against her eyelids that meant it was light out, and God only knew how far Malfoy had gone after she was asleep. She inhaled deeply, curling her fingers up in her cloak and licking her lips. There was always a brief period of time after she first woke up, no longer than a minute, where she could pretend that she had nothing to worry about in the entire world. Then her brain started going, everything started buzzing around to call for attention, and she had to get up. Hermione was never the sort of person that could lay in bed for even five minutes after waking.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a blur of brown, followed by the tips of black shoes. She blinked at them once before pushing herself up on a gasp, twisting herself to crawl backwards as she lifted her eyes to the face. It took her a long moment to recognize that it wasn't just a person standing over her a few steps away, connecting blond and grey to Malfoy.

She stared at him in accusation as his eyebrow came up, a faint lift to the corner of his mouth. He obviously had a fascination with scaring her by surprise, since he couldn't ever do it any other way. His amusement was ruined when his hand snapped to his other arm, violently slapping a bug on his skin.

"I would have killed you already if I wanted to. _Years ago_ , even."

Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes, scrunching up her face at the rudeness of her wakeup. "Why were you standing over me like a complete psychopath?" she rasped, cracked.

"Psychopath? Now all I have to do is _stand_ and I'm a psych--"

"It was like in those _films_ , where the psycho just stands over people and _breathes_ hard before--"

"I was not breathing ha--"

"--and who else hovers--"

"I thought you were dead. Do you always sleep face down when lying on the ground? Some sort of warped defense?"

Hermione blinked at her knees - no one had commented on her sleeping habits before. Not to mention, he had apparently thought she was dead, so he'd just kept staring at her supposed corpse, hovering... _psychopath_.

"The cloak was separating me from the dirt."

"Wow." He drew out the word, rocking on his feet. "Did you build a fire last night?"

"No," she said just as slowly.

He really wasn't helping his case on the psycho theory. He sniffed and jerked his chin behind her, so she turned, climbing to her feet. There was a fire pit five meters in front of her, and she took several steps back at the sight of bones littering around the circle of sticks and ash. Her shoulder brushed Malfoy's arm before she stopped her retreat, barely acknowledging him as he stepped to the side, away from her.

"Do you turn into a werewolf who cares enough to cook its tiny prey before she eats it, and now can't rem--"

"You caught onto me, Malfoy. There are just so many small animals to choose from. I prefer ferrets, though - care to volunteer?"

"I'd rather die in vain."

"In that case, I have the water from the river," she offered, both of them still staring at the fire pit.

"Bottoms up, then." He gave her a meaningful look, before swaggering off into the trees again.

She looked at her bag suspiciously, but it seemed untouched. "Why did you come over here?"

He tilted his head back, watching a flock of birds fly over their heads and settle around the carcasses. "Wishful thinking."

She was confused until she remembered his assumption that she was dead. She pictured a stone leaving her hand to hit him in the back of his shiny head to satisfy her agitation. Picking up her bag and cloak, she gave one last look to the fire pit before moving on.

**10:51am**

She was so thirsty that she was contemplating drinking the bad river water just to get the dryness from her throat. It felt like sandpaper had been wrapped around her throat and gums, coated in powder and cotton. Any moment now, she might stop being able to breathe from the walls of her throat sticking together in their scratchy dryness.

Malfoy's walking had moved further away, though she couldn't tell if it was to the side or ahead. She sped up, just in case, working to swallow.

**2:02pm**

She was eating a banana, squeezing any bit of moisture she could from the peel, when she heard a splash in the distance. It played like a musical nirvana across her eardrums, her head snapping so quickly towards the noise that her neck cracked. She reached up to rub it absently, moving diagonally in the direction she had heard it.

She stood waiting after less than a minute, listening for the sound again. She hadn't heard anything from Malfoy in hours, and though she was almost certain it was him, she wasn't going to risk it by wandering around blindly. She moved quickly when there was another splash, her eyes determined on every space between the trees that she navigated through.

Malfoy was walking around a pond, his face pulled into lines of doubt and disgust as he threw a rock into the water. He paused, though she couldn't begin to know what he was waiting for, but she could tell the water looked dirty. Algae and water bugs skimmed along the surface, and she couldn't make out the bottom further than two meters from the edge. She felt like she had been starving and given a dirt-covered pig's ear.

Hermione bit her lip, looking at her bag and then at the water again. She would have to boil the water to kill the bacteria and any parasites, and even after that, she couldn't know if it had any magic in it. She wasn't above trying - if you were hungry enough, you ate the pig's ear. Over the holidays, when her family was starving and the food wasn't ready yet, her grandmother would say it was the secret to always cooking a good meal. Starving people found mediocrity to be delicious.

That wasn't usually good enough for Hermione, but oh, how it was now. She dug into her bag, pulling a lighter out of the zipper from before she realized that the nights were never that cold. Half of her bananas spilled out as she searched for something she could possibly boil water in, discarding the water bottle and an empty bag of pretzels. A triumphant cry cracked from her parched throat when her fingers closed around the breath mint tin. The rectangle wasn't much bigger than her palm, shallow enough that it only reached the first knuckle of her index, but it was better than nothing.

She searched around her, gathering up rocks and sticks and dumping them by her bag. She set the rocks in a small circle, building a tiny tepee with twigs, and grabbed the pocket notebook from her bag. The lines were washed out or smudged, the paper warped from her forced swims, and she crinkled it into balls to place under the twigs.

Malfoy was watching her from the other side of the lake as she collected water in the tin, but she ignored him, excited as she walked back to her little fire pit. She could hear him walking towards her as she squatted down, flicking the lighter and angling it through a small gap in the twigs. She pulled away, watching the flames for a moment, before looking at the tin of water next to her trainer.

"It'll melt if you put it directly on the flames. It might even melt if you don't, but if you keep it farther away, you might not burn a hole in it."

Hermione looked up at the dagger he was holding at his side and then up to his face. She had to stop herself from standing just to be closer to equal footing. She wished she was taller than him. "What are you proposing, and what's in it for you?"

"Mutual need, Granger. I'll put the tin on the flat of the blade and hold it over the fire."

"And you want...water?"

"Is it that obvious?" he drawled, his voice raspier than hers.

She sniffed, putting the lighter's flame to the twigs again, poking and softly blowing as they caught fire. Thank God for her uncles' excessive need for bonfires during summer holidays. She didn't want to melt the tin away, though, and she didn't want to put a hole in the bottom in case she had to do this again. If Malfoy held it up, it might warp it, but hopefully it wouldn't render it worthless.

"Fine." She couldn't keep water away from him anyway, despite that he probably wouldn't have done the same for her if their positions were reversed. Malfoy or not, she just wasn't that sort of person.

He squatted down on the opposite side of the tiny fire, holding the dagger flat side up over the flames. She lifted the tin, careful not to spill any, and placed it gently on top of the blade. Malfoy rested part of his arm on his knee and stared at the flames as she poked at them, both trying to ignore the awkwardness of ignoring one another.

"We have to wait for it boil."

"And here I thought you just liked to drink warm water."

Well, there went _that_ attempt at a normal conversation. Malfoy stayed stony and silent as she snapped up more sticks, keeping the fire going without it getting too big. He was holding the handle just on the outskirts of the flames, but if it got too hot, he wouldn't be able to stand it for too long. His flash of a glare sent her way told her he was thinking along the same lines.

_Watched water never boils_ never held as true as it did now. It seemed to take hours for it to begin to steam, Malfoy shifting from his discomfort from the weight on his wrist and the heat. Days felt like they passed before the first bubbles appeared, and the steely determination in Malfoy's eyes was either about to set the water into flames or ice. He looked like he was counting out the seconds with each twitch of his jaw, and it was driving her crazy. She wanted to ram her finger into the muscle, because it was only making her more impatient.

He settled the tin on the ground in front of him the fourth time a bubble broke the surface, sliding the blade out from underneath it. He switched the dagger into his left hand, stretching out the fingers on his right like a cat. Hermione shoved a couple more sticks onto the fire, knowing they would need to repeat the process a couple times. She doubted he would be willing to do it for her to fill up her water bottle, but they could at least get their fill now. Both of them waited in silence for the water to cool down, Hermione picking at bark, and Malfoy's head turned towards the water.

"You can take the first half," she offered when the water was barely steaming any more.

"I'm not your fucking test subject, Granger. You go first."

"I thought you wouldn't want to drink after a Mud--"

"You thought I wouldn't realize that it might be infected like the river."

She flushed because that _had_ been the major reason. She probably would have had to hear him complain about Muggle-born germs if she had drunk first, but even in her thirst she was hesitant to trust the water again. It wasn't like she offered him a death sentence - if it was the same as the river, he would have been holding the water that would allow him to get out again.

"We'll both do it," she decided, moving around the pit to grab the tin. "We might not have found where that wall was without the two of us, so it's best if we both go. I know you wouldn't trust me to follow, as much as I don't trust you, so we'll do it at the same time. That way--"

"There's really no hope for you ever shutting up when you can still talk that much with a mouth that dry," he rasped back.

He stretched his hand out for her to hand him the tin, making an aggravated noise after a few seconds and cupping his hands instead. She pulled her bag over her shoulder before pouring the warm water into his palms, and then raised the hot tin to her lips. Malfoy looked at her over the tips of his fingers, and she could see water dripping from his wrists by the time she was already swallowing. She had figured he would wait until she already swallowed, but there hadn't been anything she could do about it.

She breathed a sigh of relief across the foul taste of the water, both from the liquid feel and the lack of magical effect. She took two gulps, half the tin gone at that, and almost shot the rest into her mouth from the greed that comes with need. She should have done it just to spite him for waiting that second longer, forcing her to go first, but she didn't enjoy being on his level.

She cleared her throat as she lowered the tin, reaching high across the fire to hand it to him. If it hadn't been for the gleam of wetness on his lips, she would have thought he was still waiting for something bad to happen to her. He didn't put his lips against the tin like her, but poured it into his mouth, his throat bobbing twice before he lowered it.

He looked as unsatisfied as she felt, his nose wrinkled up from the taste. It had been a lot of work for not nearly enough, just for them to do it all over again. Her body was still in desperate need for more, but at least her mouth didn't feel like a barren wasteland anymore.

"Get more water and I'll get the sticks." She coughed the words out from 'water' on.

He cleared his throat twice. "Was that an order?"

They both glared at one another as she stood, turning to collect more wood, and heard splashing a minute later.

**6:29pm**

They had left the lake over an hour ago, Hermione figured, both of them taking their same separate but relatively close paths. Despite their short partnership and that they were practically walking together anyway, it felt too strange to actually be walking _beside_ one another. Hermione had agreed with the space between them until now.

It was beginning to get dark, the blue coloring getting deeper around them with every minute, when she found another fire pit. There were less animal carcasses around this one, and either the person had picked off every bit of meat on the bones, or the birds had already been there and finished it. There were still flies buzzing around it, blood spilled out in dark lines around the fire, and a single thatch of fur collecting a group of bugs.

It scared her; as freaky and ominous as it was there in the setting dark, and being the second one she had found upon the same path she was walking. She cut through the trees, still on her second thought about it, needing the sight of a familiar person in front of her. There was a small amount of safety that came with knowing that even if he didn't try to help her if someone attacked, the person would be less likely to attack two people. She drew her quill from her pocket, glancing around her, and found Malfoy's back two meters in front of her.

She followed him, meeting his eyes when he looked back at the twig that cracked under her foot. She was surprised he could even hear it under his own stomping feet. He opened his mouth but changed his mind, turning to face forward again and ignoring her.


	11. Part Eleven

**10:32pm**

Hermione dropped her bag, her shoulder remaining in an awkward slant from the soreness. Walking for hours through a forest, covered in sweat, being attacked by bugs and branches, and carrying a bag that weighed as much as twenty textbooks had taken its toll. She spread her cloak out over the grass and plopped down, her achy legs burning in protest of further movement. She wiped the sweat from her forehead before scratching at the mosquito bites on her arms, sweat packing up under her nails.

Malfoy had kept walking but he stopped now, nearly five meters away from her, his robe-bundle hitting the ground with a thud. He sent her a look that was too tired to be effective, turning his back to her as he dug in his pockets. She gave him a curious look before dragging her bag closer to her and laying back on the cloak.

It was a very odd feeling to be trying to sleep with him that close. It was strange enough to claim whatever land you fell onto as your bed for the night, but knowing Draco Malfoy was sleeping within seeing and hearing distance was unsettling. She wondered if she snored -- not that she cared if it would bother him. She really hoped she didn't pass gas or something in her sleep, though. He would no doubt take the opportunity to embarrass her with that. She could just picture waking up to Malfoy standing over her like a psycho again -- _I thought you were farting, Granger_. Hermione snorted out laughter at the thought, and she swore she could hear Malfoy groan and start muttering to himself.

**May 21; 12:32pm**

"Does this look familiar to you?" It was the first time she had said a word in two days.

"It does. Do you think we're going in circles, or is it possible that most trees look the same?" It was the first words he had spoken as well, though his bite remained the same.

She gave the trees in front of her the evil look that was meant for him, sliding sideways between two trunks. Yesterday had been a game of trying to get in front of the other one, which meant they were jogging half the day and ended up passing out hours early from not conserving their energy. Today there seemed to be a mutual acceptance that it didn't matter who was ahead as long as they didn't get too far. Hermione, who was ahead of Malfoy by a meter, still felt like she was winning.

It was starting to get to her - the silence only interrupted by the _crunchcrunch, snap, crunch_. She tried singing in her head, revising her speech to the Ministry, and daydreaming about meeting a hotel owner who would offer her a bed, shower, and food for free. She started to plan out her meals for when she got home, but it left her too hungry and unsatisfied.

"How far do you think the city is? Or anywhere with civilization?"

Malfoy was silent for long enough that she didn't expect him to answer. She exhaled through her nose, switching her bag to the other shoulder, and ignoring his huff of laughter when she stumbled over a rock. She tried to think of any other possible things they had in common. Heartbeats, brain matter... _So, Malfoy... skin, huh?_

"Why are you so interested in getting back to the city instead of looking for Floralis?" His tone sounded like practiced boredom.

She could practically feel his eyes digging into the back of her head. All right - maybe talking hadn't been a good idea. She wasn't about to tell him she was waiting for the Ministry to come storming in if they weren't already there yet.

"More supplies," she rushed. "I need supplies."

Malfoy hummed in a way that told her he saw right through her. Definitely no more talking.

**May 22; 8:14am**

They slept carefully separated and a few meters from the banks of a river. They had both stared at the water with distrust for a couple minutes, and it had taken longer than that before Hermione finally tried the water and nothing happened. The water had been clean, and Hermione had drank until she thought her stomach might explode. She planned on filling up her water bottle today before she left, just in case something happened to deviate her from the line of the river, but she didn't know what to do with the bad water that was inside of it. She really wanted to save a little bit and try some tests on it when she got home. She would have to put it in the tin for now and carry it so it didn't leak from the lid or open in her bag.

Malfoy was no longer in the spot he had slept in last night, so he had either left or was the one splashing in the river at the moment. The sound did nothing to help the urgency of her bladder, and she knew she had ignored it for too long when it took her as long as an old woman to get off from the ground. She had to wiggle, push, and twist her body in odd ways to attempt getting up without letting her thighs unclench or her bladder explode. She barely made it far enough behind the trees before she shoved her jeans down as she squatted and finally let go, resting her forehead against a tree with a sigh of relief.

She snapped a few decent looking leaves from the tree with a grimace, checking to make sure Malfoy wasn't going to appear. She didn't know how her far ancestors ever managed. She would try her very best to never take toilets, toilet paper, and hand soap for granted again.

She grabbed her bag and cloak on her way to the river they had followed yesterday. She didn't know what Malfoy planned on doing, but she was going to follow that river to the end. She was bound to hit civilization somewhere along it, and if she didn't find the city she had first arrived in, then at least they could tell her how to get there. If she ended up going in the wrong direction and the city was on the opposite side of the island, she could just take a different path back to it and check for the plant on the way.

She didn't think it would be out in the open anywhere, but she suspected it had to be in a cave, under deep water, or someplace relatively hidden. Knowing the Islands, it was probably in a place surrounded by heavy magic, and she could only hope that she would sense it or see it as she walked.

Hermione came to such an abrupt stop that she almost fell over, which would have been horrible if he saw it as some sort of awe. It was absolutely only surprise at the sight of Malfoy and the blinding thought that he was completely starkers. He wasn't, she found when he backed up slightly from the waist-deep middle of the river, and she saw the waistband of his shorts. Still, seeing Draco Malfoy in just his shorts was not something she had ever expected or wished to see, and she gaped at him stupidly for several long seconds.

His hair was slicked back like it had been in their youth, but there were short strands by his ears that were sticking straight out. His skin was just as blemish-free as his face, unlike Ron's freckles or the sun spots Harry would get in the summer. She saw the muscles and tendons move in his shoulders as he leaned forward, her eyes disobeying her brain's commands as they looked, but then he dove under. Hermione blinked at the spot, not knowing why she was blushing, and darted her eyes over to Malfoy-free water like she should have done ten seconds ago.

It had been curiosity, that was all. Curiosity and _indifference_ when she looked at him. He didn't have a belly or was so thin his ribs were sticking out, and it wasn't like he had bulging muscles from spending too much time at the gym either. His pale skin reminded her of a fish's belly, so he was like a ...a giant fish man standing there in the water. There was nothing _special_ about it. It was... decent, perhaps even typical, and not what she was expecting. Not that she had ever _thought_ about it before - because she hadn't - but in that brief moment it took her to register that he didn't have a shirt on and catch a glimpse of what that looked like, she had expected him to be more... boyish. Thin, plain, less defined - and Malfoy was, well, a _man_ , though she should have figured that out some time back when he had tackled her in the tunnels in Germany. Hermione Granger could have beaten a young Malfoy in a fight with magic or strength when they were kids. She had just looked because it was _strange_ , and she had always been curious about things she had never seen before - that was all.

**10:37am**

It had taken her several minutes of carefully not looking at him to realize that he was fishing - or attempting to, anyway. She had thought he was either learning how to swim or participating in a strange bathing ritual before that. Hermione, who had never been one to slack, had rolled her jeans up above her knees and ripped a strip of her cloak off, using it to tie her quill to the end of a stick.

Fishing was not easy. The tedious fishing trips her father dragged her on when she was a child were simple enough - cast, wait, reel in. Trying to spear a fish with the quill end of a stick was one of the most frustrating things she ever had to do. The fish were quick, she was slower, her angle was almost always wrong, and every couple jabs she would have to secure the quill again. When she was convinced that a fish had sent her wide, pleading eyes as she angled her makeshift spear at it, she decided she had had enough.

She had retreated back to her bag of dwindling bananas, defeated. She was just peeling her second banana, making sure she had everything before she started walking, when Malfoy came out of the water with his dagger shoved through the neck of a violently wiggling fish. Hermione stared at it, horrified, as the banana dropped from her hand.

"You're hurting it!"

She didn't look away from the suffering fish to see his face, but he sounded like Snape when he asked, "Really?"

"Don't just torment it like that! Kill the poor thing!"

"It's a fish." He was incredulous.

"There have been recent studies that--"

" _A_ _fish_."

"--pain, and it's still a living thing! Cut the head off!"

He stood still for a few seconds, just a second less than when she was about to spring at him, before squatting down and sliding the fish off the blade. Hermione watched him work for a grip and press his hand down to hold the fish still, then she looked away when he brought the blade to its neck. She closed an eye and scrunched her face at the sound of him slicing and then chopping. It made her a little sick to her stomach as she shoved the banana back in her bag.

"Shit," Malfoy cursed, and Hermione looked back at him as he lifted his hand.

He looked at his palm, blood mixing with water to make it look worse than it was, and tiny pieces of scales shimmered off his skin. He must have cut himself on one of them when he was-- Hermione gasped, her mouth dropping open, and she rocked forward on instinct as her hand reached out. She stopped herself when Malfoy closed his fingers around his palm, drawing his arm back as her hand dropped to smack against her thigh.

"What?" Malfoy asked. "Did you think it was a different color, or did you just get excited at the chance for it to be life threatening?"

"No, I...I just think you should wash it off before it gets...infected." Her voice sounded as faraway as Luna's, even to her, and she glanced up to see Malfoy watching her carefully.

He stood up slowly, giving her a skeptical look as he walked back to the river. Hermione stared at the sun shining off the water on his back, the blue and ivory shimmer on the twitching fish, and then down at her own hand. She turned her palm towards herself, uncurling her fingers, and looked at the lines of her palm. The same lines she had stared at since she was a child, that Lavender tried to read the future of her life from, that formed part of the individual identity of her body. All of them were old and familiar, except for one - the curving scar that ran the length of her lifeline, the one she had discovered almost four months ago after her...

She stared dazedly at the scar for another second before her head snapped up, her eyes searching for Malfoy. _Him_. She had dreamt of him that day after her freak accident that she couldn't remember. She had... _God_ , what was that dream about? He had put his fingers in his mouth, and then he had put them in hers and said something about...Valentine's Day? Then she had woken up on the floor of her living room...

What were the chances of it being a coincidence that she knocked her head and dreamt of Malfoy on the same day that she accidentally cut directly along her lifeline in the fall, and four months later saw him with the same scar in the same place? What were the chances of that happening and not being connected at all?

"I didn't take you for the type to be squeamish around blood."

Hermione swallowed tightly and glanced up at the blond. "Yeah, I...it just creeps me out, I guess."

"Right." She could see him rock on his feet from the top of her eyes. "You aren't going insane, are you? If you are, you can drag your arse to the other side of the islan--"

" _You_ can," she snapped.

"There's the bitch I hate. If you--"

"Don't call me that. And, see, when people look like that, Malfoy, it's called _thinking_. Most people have a _brain_ , and they use it to--"

"Ah, but most don't have that constipated and scared look on their face when they do it. What was it, Granger? Were you trying to remember the alphabet or count to--"

"Just cut the fish, Malfoy."

He looked at her for a long moment before waving towards her bag. "Mutual need?"

"Fine."

**11:48am**

If they went too long without finding any other food and had to rely on Malfoy's fish preparation, they would be dead in a week. He had hardly gotten any meat off of it, so he had either cut it wrong or somehow managed to catch the anorexic fish within all the ones with meat on them. It was still meat, though, and Hermione's mouth watered with every bite that tasted nothing like bananas.

"How did you get that scar on your hand?" she asked, pulling another sliver of bone from her mouth.

Malfoy looked up at her as he raised the tip of his dagger to his mouth, removing the bit of fish there with his teeth. She had washed her quill in the river, still partly convinced that there was still blood on it from when she was attacked, before using it as an eating utensil. She again thanked whoever might be listening that she had thrown it in her bag at some point, or she would have been lost a while ago.

"Some time in all my raping and murdering."

Her eyes flashed from where he was stabbing at a piece of fish from his side of the tin and up to his. "Rape?"

His carelessness changed at the accusation in her question and he sneered at her, the dagger stabbing the fish with enough force that she looked down to make sure he hadn't punctured the tin. "Despite what you might think of me, I don't have to go to such lengths for a shag, Granger."

She looked down at the meat on her quill, gingerly picking out a bone. She realized that he had said raping and murdering, but not torturing, which she knew for a fact that he had done. Going on that logic, he hadn't murdered anyone, whether under threat of Voldemort or by choice. She supposed the only time he had tried was with Dumbledore.

"So you got it when you were a Death Eater?"

He chewed slowly, his gaze unwavering and unnerving. "Why are you so curious?"

She shrugged. "I'm always curious."

He arched an eyebrow, swallowing the last piece of his fish and standing up. "Have you ever wondered how long it takes to drown to death?"

"Why don't you show me?" She smiled sweetly.

"Sure. Go stand in the center and I'll hold your head down." She glared at his smirk.

**May 23; 1:19pm**

Hermione was walking behind Malfoy - who seemed to have had the same idea about following the river - when she spotted it. The entrance to the cave was thin and, from her distance, looked like it might not even fit her through it, but she knew it would be big enough once she got there. It sat at the top of a high hill that she would be more inclined to call a mountain had its size not been dwarfed by the giant mountain that formed from its far edge. The cave entered into the mountain, and the hill was her way of getting there, dropping straight to the ground in a wall of jagged rock. She had seen the more climbable slope a mile back, and it was the only way she could ascend the hill without magic or a lot of safety lines. She could see the hill sloping down ahead of them, but Malfoy would certainly know something was going on if she took off for it.

Hermione arranged her face in a blank expression, scratching her head as she looked forward towards Malfoy to see if he had spotted it. His face was still aimed ahead, his strides still long as he stepped over roots, zigzagged through trees, and pushed vines out of the way. He looked the same as he had the past few hours, and she doubted that he wouldn't be all out running for the hill had he seen it.

She slowed her steps down, an innocent expression plastered on her face as she watched him carefully. She began walking backwards, bumping into more than a few trees, but Malfoy carried on. She waited until she couldn't see his back or hair flashing through the trees before she turned, running back the way they had come. Her bag jostled noisily, twigs and thin branches cracking as she ran, but she didn't have the time for silence. Hopefully Malfoy couldn't hear her running or feel that something was off, because she knew he never turned to look at her to find out that way if something was up.

She pulled her bag off as she approached the beginning of the slope, water splashing up from her trainers as she ran into the river. She held her bag above her head, walking and pushing the water when she reached the middle, as it engulfed her to the chest. She was forced to walk in slow motion, the current making her walk in a forward slide, but she pushed on to the other side. Rocks crunched under her feet as she rushed onto the banks, feeling three times heavier than when she had entered, water sloshing down to her waterlogged and squeaking trainers. She threw her bag back over her shoulder, pushing the weight around to her back, and started up the hill.

It was steep, and she had to run in a hunch to stop herself from falling backwards. Her feet slipped over grass and rocks, her breath a hurricane of sound in her ears. Her calves were burning halfway up, her back aching under the slant and the weight of her bag. She ignored it, pressing on, wondering if Malfoy had figured out that she was gone yet. If he had, maybe he would think that the fire pit person had snatched her. If he got suspicious and caught sight of the cave, she just needed to make sure that she was through most of it before he entered.

Her plan faltered and then collapsed around her the moment she reached the top of the hill. Malfoy was several meters from her, coming away from the slope on the other side, his feet catching in pause when he spotted her. He was dripping wet, his chest heaving for breath as much as hers. They stared at one another in surprise for three and a half beats of her heart, before both of them moved at the same time, taking off for the entrance.

The little sneak. He had probably seen it when she had, maybe even before that, and had taken off the second he realized she had fallen behind. Her plan was for him to find it at least several minutes after her, if at all, but he reached the entrance first. She sprinted in after him, the crack wide enough to fit her easily, and immediately ducked the points of rock coming down from the ceiling. The terrain was rough and hilly, and she felt like she were running the course of a roller coaster as she vaulted the stone bumps and tiny hills, ducking the bulges in the ceiling. The light was dwindling down into a faint glow as her head snapped in every direction, searching for an opening or any sort of plant.

Malfoy was gaining ground ahead of her, but was temporarily slowed by a half-wall of fallen debris. The length of his legs had him over it faster than her, though, rock crumbling and sliding under the grip of her hands and trainers. She slid down the other side, coughing on the rock dust they had pushed into the air, before taking off after him again. The light was practically nonexistent now, Malfoy's back a morphing black against the almost-black around her.

Her shoulder slammed into the wall, her feet tripped over a bump, her head was skimming under the rock ceiling or banging against the bulges. Malfoy was having the same luck, judging by the stream of curses coming from in front of her as she cradled her head with one hand, digging in her bag with the other. Malfoy yelled out just as her hand closed around the lighter, and she ducked her head in case he had slammed it into something. She tore her lighter out, bananas falling from her bag, and flicked it in front of her. It lit up for just a second, put out by the wind she created in her speed. She flicked it again, her eyes darting from the spark of fire to the darkness surrounding her left foot, feeling it angle down, as if she were on a ledge.

It was too late to stop her run and the momentum, her right foot already reaching out for ground and only finding air. She jerked back on instinct, her arms flinging out for balance or something to grab, but she fell with a scream. Complete darkness wrapped around her as she flailed, trying to keep her legs straight for when she hit the bottom, her hands grasping onto nothing.

Her trainers hit the ground, her feet straining and pulling under the momentum and weight of her body as it flung her to her knees. Her palms slapped into the ground, her skin stinging, and her chin clipped the stone. It forced her teeth together, biting into her tongue, and metallic bitterness swept across her mouth. She stared at the dark green tint of stone beneath her, swallowing her own blood, as she waited for her body to adjust to the pains and aches. She lifted her hand, looking at her broken lighter, the metal wheel and spring rolling off from the sweat on her palm.

She pulled her bag closer to her, throwing the lighter, her notebook, and the bananas back in, them having fallen out during the impact or the fall. It wasn't until the blood slowed its rush in her ears and her shock began to fade that she heard it. A low, fierce sound that made her fine hairs stand on end. Hermione slowly lifted her eyes, too nervous about what she would find, but needing to look anyway. As soon as her eyes settled on them, she was on her feet, jumping back until her shoulders hit the wall.

They were...were... She didn't know _what_ they were, but was raking her brain for any time she had come across them. The creatures were about as big as her head, jet black with a green shine to their fur in the glow of the room. They had rows of sharp teeth, the top row larger and longer, and both rows coming out past their lips. Long claws scraped against the ceiling as their eyes shined black, and they were cocking their heads at her from their upside-down angle. Their hair was standing up as they growled lowly to form a rising and falling hum of angry, threatening sounds.

Hermione looked up, slowly pulling her quill from her pocket as her heart thundered loudly. She couldn't see where she'd fallen from, but she knew it was from a higher place than the level the creatures were on. If the opening was still there, she couldn't see it in the darkness high above her. She looked back down, through the eerie green glow of the room, and found two different exits. One was a ramp of stone, leading up into the faint blue of daylight. The other was a ledge, thick bugs crawling between the three dangerous creatures perched against the stone, the opening leading to darkness. There might have been more, but she couldn't see them through the shadows that took over the edges of the room.

It was clear which one she was going to take, swinging her eyes back to the ramp and then the dozens of beasts staring at her. The fall must have been why she had heard Malfoy yell earlier, though she hadn't heard any sounds from him after that. She didn't see him anywhere, and part of her was wondering darkly if they had eaten him. He could have been in the shadows somewhere, or he might have already gotten out. She hadn't heard a flurry of sound or yelling, so if he had left quietly, there might be a chance they would leave her alone if she didn't make any fast movements.

She tightened her hold on the quill, wishing again that she had her magic or something more useful. She very slowly pulled her bag back onto her shoulder, pushing the weight around to her back. Her first step was hesitant as she held her breath, like the mere pressure of her air on the creatures would send them all after her in a second. There were dozens of them, and if she did something to set them off, she wouldn't stand a chance. None of them moved, so she took another step, angling herself towards the outskirts of the room, not wanting to have to duck and attempt skirting around them. She froze when one stretched out black wings as long as her arm, and she bit her lip. That just made it even worse - if they were on the ground, at least she had a chance of kicking or stomping on them if they attacked her. But if they _flew_...

She took another step when the creature had calmed, another, and was almost through a third when one of them took off from the ceiling. It flew towards her through the others, causing them to drop down as well as they took to flight, and Hermione's scream turned into a squeal behind her locked lips. She traded stillness for a sprint within a second, yelling and throwing her arm out when fur flashed across her arm. Another hit into the side of her face, sticky wetness gushing down her cheek as she stabbed at it, running for the ramp. Her hair was yanked upwards as one of them crashed into the back of her head, retreating as she smacked her arm back.

Her adrenaline and fear was a torpedo of pressure against her skin, her heart frantic in its cavity. She stabbed one with her quill as it flew at her face, jerking away from the one at her shoulder, and accidentally sending herself flying into another. She hit it so hard that it flung her back, sending her sprawling to the ground. One of the creatures crunched under her back as she scrambled to her feet, stabbing her quill at another that hit the side of her head. She gasped as the beast she had crashed into jumped to its feet. It was bigger than the others, _bigger than her_ , a curved sword clutched between its fingers and gleaming with its claws. Its eyes were intelligent as she ran back from it, the mouth opening to reveal long, jagged teeth. She turned to run, flinging her arms out at the creatures attacking her, and noticing the blood covering her arms, though she was too panicked to feel the wounds. It was in that second before her face turned fully around that she saw the beast from the corner of her eye, scrambling away from her as quickly as she was from it and towards the ramp.

Hermione screamed as one of the creatures snapped its jaws in her face, positive she would have been left without one had her arm not come up just a second before. She stabbed it, flinging it away from her as her brain tried to clear the fog of her fear and survival instinct. She glanced back at the bigger beast for just a moment as she spun her arms around wildly, and saw it fling a smaller creature away from it - like it was trying to protect itself as well. She turned for it and the ramp, having been forced to go in the opposite direction when she had slammed into it.

"Malfoy?" she screeched, her panic tightening her vocal chords. "Malfoy! Malfoy! _Malfoy_!"

The beast turned its head towards her, its sword circling and blood spraying from one of the creatures. The sword, the _dagger_. He locked eyes with her on the next scream of his name, confirming what was beginning to sink into her head. She shoved a creature at the wall, yanking herself away from the one that smacked into her back, and elbowing another as it swiped at her stomach, blood blossoming out in her shirt.

_Illusions, illusions_ ; unless Malfoy was part beast, it was the magic again. But there was still blood on her skin, and she didn't know what was fake or real. She definitely felt an impact when she slammed her arm into one of the creatures, and felt the hot blood that sprayed into her face when she pulled her quill out of another - but if these were illusions, then there was magic to stop them from getting out or finding the plant...

She saw Malfoy ahead of her, his swor-- dagger slicing into a creature attacking his head as he ran for the slope. "No!" she screamed. "The ledge! Go to the ledge!"

She couldn't be sure, she could hardly even _think_ , but being best friends with Harry Potter had taught her how to go with her gut when she had to. She ran after Malfoy, her arms shooting out as she felt the animals hit her back, claw at her shirt, and fly into her. Malfoy was darting up the slope ahead of her, and she saw _him_ now, the beast illusion gone. She pushed herself harder, sprinting up the slope and stretching her arm out, her fingers curling into the back of his shirt. She dug her heels in, yanking him back as he cried out, and she saw his knee enter the edge of blue light and catch fire. They both stumbled back, Malfoy smacking against the flames and yelling the entire time.

"It's the magic, illusions - we have to go the way they don't want us to!" she yelled over his noise, smacking and stabbing at the creatures. "The ledge with the bugs!"

She hit her arm into the soft belly of one, hearing it's bones crack as her arm propelled it to the blue light she had thought was daylight. It immediately burst into flames the second it entered the light, hitting the ground with a crack. She jerked Malfoy back by his shirt again, back into the room as he slapped her hand off of him, rubbing his still smoking knee and violently swinging his dagger.

"It might be _worse_ tha--" he started, sounding as breathless with panic as her, turning back into the beast when they entered the green glow.

It didn't matter, because they didn't have another choice. Malfoy sliced one of the animals open as it bit into his jaw, the blood splashing across both of them. It was easier to defend themselves with two of them; Malfoy stopping most of ones that came at their backs with him behind her, and her stopping most of those that flew at the front of them. They fought their way to the ledge, her heart ready to explode in her chest as Malfoy pushed in front of her.

"You go first."

"I ca--" She slammed both hands into one of the animals, whipping it to the ground. "Can't, you have to go first!"

"I'm not--"

"You can't climb out on your own, and I can't lift you!" Hermione yelled, flinching when he stabbed right above her shoulder, shaking the dying animal off to what happened to be her feet.

They had no time to argue about it, and it was the only possible way they would get out of here, and not being able to pull herself up, she had to trust him. It scared her more than the creatures, but there was no longer a choice. "You have to pull me up! If--"

"If I don't fucking die first!"

She stabbed one as it hit into her face, yelling out at the gleam of its teeth at the corner of her eye, and dropped to her hands and knees. Malfoy didn't waste a second, ramming a foot into her back, her arms buckling as he launched his weight off of her. Hermione scrambled to her feet, slapping an animal away before pushing on Malfoy's rising feet.

He got up on the ledge, standing as her head snapped to the side from one of the creatures flying into it. She spun her arms wildly, staring at the empty space Malfoy had been, and felt dread like ice begin to coat the fire of her panic. She didn't know if he was dead or had just abandoned her, but then he was there, laying over the edge. He was back to his normal self, his long arms coming down, and his fingers stretching out towards her as she grabbed his forearms, heart pounding with relief.

He pulled her arms, the muscles in his straining and bunching under her weight. She used her feet on the wall to help her climb, crying out as something hit her back, the pull in her arms building until she thought that she would fall with Malfoy holding her detached limbs above her. He pulled back, his arms shaking and her fingers sliding in their grip against his skin as her chin cleared the edge. He let go of one of her arms, her body jerking to the side before he grabbed her again under her upper arm, yanking her onto the ledge with one final heave.

She hit the ground on her knees, her ankles hanging off the ledge as Malfoy collapsed back, his arms falling against the ground and his stomach in dead weight. He was gasping for breath like she was obese or something, though any amount of dead weight isn't easy to pull up several meters by the strength of your arms alone, she supposed. His face was red from how he had been holding his breath, his neck corded when he pulled her up, and it was all darkness behind him.

He pushed himself up as she crawled from the ledge, pulling her bag around in front of her, none of the creatures having followed them up there. She was surprised he wasn't having a heart attack from getting her blood on his han-- her eyes flashed to Malfoy when he let out a dry, cracking laugh. His eyes were fixed over her shoulder as he laughed harder, the lack of derision in it something she had never heard. She looked over her shoulder, not knowing what she could possibly find, and blinked at the small, black balls in the dull green glow.

She laughed then too, low and dry, and looked up towards the ceiling in disbelief. She looked back at the bats, settling again on the ceiling. Bats. Bats. Completely normal-looking, albeit slightly creepy, _bats_.

"We just massacred _bats_ , Granger. Fucking _bats_."

She laughed harder, feeling a little insane, feeling like she didn't even know what to do with herself.

**3:38pm**

Hermione clutched the old, empty bag of pretzels in her hand, now filled with as much witch's herb as she could find. The myrtle leaves were moist in her other hand, held with the strap of her bag as she crossed the river to Malfoy. He was sitting at the bank, his trousers rolled up to above his knees and his legs submerged in the water. His knee had been burnt pretty badly from the fire, now red and pink blotches of swollen flesh. It looked painful, and explained why he had limped and slid his way through the tunnel from the ledge and out of the cave.

She climbed out of the water a meter from him, setting her bag on the grass and walked over awkwardly. She rolled the pretzel bag open, looking at him as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye and clenched his jaw.

"These will help with the burn," she said, holding out the bag of yellow flowers, and then the handful of leaves. "And these will help with the inflammation and to keep it from getting infected."

He gave them an incredulous look before raising an eyebrow in her direction. "I eat them?"

"No. I have to make a poultice. Which means I have to boil them in water, so - either hand me your dagger, or you'll have to hold it."

She couldn't read his expression when he looked up at her, nodding his chin at her hands. "How do you know it does that?"

"I... I started looking into things last year. Useful things, like what you can use for injuries in the wild, what you can eat... I already knew their role in potions, plus myrtle trees have been linked to immortality, so I thought of reading up on it a few months ago after I found out about- Well, it's not what we're looking for, obviously, or everyone--"

"Do either of those work for headaches as well? It was simple question, Granger, I didn't ask for a fucking novel."

She pursed her lips, wondering again why she was even helping him. She couldn't just leave him injured in the middle of a forest, though - she could never be that person. She also felt terrible for killing and injuring so many bats, regardless if she had thought they were trying to kill her at the time. Especially when she had washed off in the river and found that the blood on her wasn't from any cuts, and must have been all from them. Doing one bad thing was enough for her today.

Maybe a part of her hoped he would have helped her if it had been her injured. She shook her head, seeing him reaching over the ledge for her again, seemingly very real killer creatures flying at him as he lay defenseless in order to help her. She had been half-expecting him to walk away, but she had had no other choice but to decide to trust him and quickly. He could have walked away and found the plant, no worries or competition from her, but he didn't. She wasn't sure why.

"Why are you helping me, Granger? You should be running off to find Floralis and leaving me to my own defenses." Apparently, he was thinking the same thing.

She looked at him, opening her mouth to say something insulting, but changing her mind. "It's who I am. Maybe if you were a psychopath, I could leave you here, but...you're just halfway revolting."

"So, I'm not a psychopath anymore? How-"

"Well, if you stop breathing heavily over me while I sle--"

"It had nothing to do with you, and I don't breathe heavily. You're the one gasping for breath after a mi--"

"Hardly!"

"I guess bookworms don't get much exercise. Explains--"

"Whatever, fish-man." She wasn't sure why that had slipped out, but the word 'exercise' reminded her of Malfoy half-naked in the water again.

"...What did you just--"

"I'm going to find some sticks."

**May 24; 10:21am**

If Malfoy wasn't worried her walking ahead of him might lead her to the plant first, he might have demanded she leave him to hobble along by himself. He didn't seem pleased at all to have her there to see him struggle, or having to stop herself from walking too far ahead. He had tried to keep up with her, but ten minutes later he was a green-tinged pale, sweating, with his face in a frozen, pained expression. She took pity on him, walking slower, but he didn't let up on his death looks, and she was pretty sure he was planning murder.

Hermione didn't leave him, though. For a few reason she wasn't that sure of, but also because of who she was, and because she realized facts. The two times that the magic had done something dangerous, either of them would have been dead without the other. She would still be stuck in that clearing or would have gone up in flames had she not realized from him that it was an illusion. Until she got to the city and the Ministry, Malfoy was all she had against increasingly dangerous magic.

There was also that _thing_ poking at the back of her mind - Malfoy's scar that matched hers, on the same hand, exactly along the lifeline. She couldn't know what it meant just yet, but it irked her and drew her towards him at the same time. She was still trying to figure it out in her head, equally hesitant to believe it was a coincidence or something greater.

"Figs!" she yelled in her excitement, her thoughts abruptly halting with her feet.

She glanced back at Malfoy as he stopped as well, wiping the sweat from his face and pressing his back against a tree. They were high in the branches, but she managed to grab three of them in seven jumps. She tucked the extra one into her bag and walked back to the blond.

"Mutual need?" she copied him, glancing at his knife as she held one of them out to him.

He didn't look good at all, sweating too much and ashen. "Yeah."

**3:35pm**

Hermione folded the strip of her cloak over the leaves, only the second time she had made a poultice in her life. She handed it to Malfoy, who didn't bother looking at her when he accepted it, and she was extremely thankful when her cloak removed the sight of his knee from her gaze. It was even more swollen than it had been yesterday, bubbling red and inflamed. It looked extremely painful, and she had no idea how he had walked that long on it.

No wonder he looked like he was going to be sick or faint at any moment, hopping on his one leg more than he was actually walking. She had asked him twice if he needed to rest, knowing that he must have, but he had gritted his teeth and replied in the negative both times. It wasn't until she had said she was tired and claimed a spot on the ground that he had finally collapsed.

Hermione poked at the fire as the myrtle leaves boiled in the tin, trembling above the flames with Malfoy's hand as he held the knife.


	12. Part Twelve

**May 25; 11:18am**

She couldn't fish. Or, like she had told her father when she was eight, the fish hated her. When it came to her survival instinct or theirs, they clearly wanted to live more than she wanted to eat. Maybe if she was out of food, she would beat them, but they were winning by a landslide. Her fingers were pruning, her spear stabbing alternating between vicious and clear demonstrations of someone who had given up ten minutes ago.

There was one silver fish that was taunting her. She knew it was from the way it kept coming close to her, flashing its fat little belly, and then zooming away the moment she lifted her quill-stick. A part of her wondered if the primal feeling this arose in her was something close to that barbaric instinct in men when a woman teased them. _You're never going to get this_ , the fish said with its sucking mouth and beady eyes. _Don't I look delicious?_ And Hermione had laughed at this thought process in the beginning, but around the sixth flip of its fins, she was _determined_. Prey and predator, and that fish would be hers.

She stalked around the water with her head bent and back hunched, arms stretched and curved above her head like a monkey. She threw her spear at anything flashing silver, usually ending up with scraped stones - then the meaty fish would be back to laugh at her, always when she was unprepared. It was out to _get_ her. The fish was out to get her and drive her mad.

This was the position that Malfoy found her in, in her monkey pose, muttering angrily at the water. She didn't know how long he had been there, but she tried to play it off anyway, straightening her arms and pulling into a stretch. She cleared her throat, looking up at him leaning against a tree, favoring his uninjured leg, his arms crossed. She didn't know if he was waiting for her so they could leave, but she thought he would take off on his own instead. Though he probably realized the same facts she had - though without the scar bit - as she doubted he wouldn't rather take his chances by himself than partner up with her. She didn't know why he was standing there and watching her, but it was creepy - and embarrassing, considering the pose he had caught her in. At least he didn't know why she made a shame walk to the banks, glaring at every flash of silver she saw.

She cleared her throat again, uncomfortable, and quickly pulled her shirt from its attempt to become another layer of skin. She dug around in her bag, unzipping the little pocket, and pulled out the last of her bathing supplies. The one little bar and small shampoo were already used, so she tucked them in her pocket, looking up at Malfoy, who was staring out at the water.

She had tried to avoid bathing since she ran into Malfoy, not wanting him to know she had the stuff, but also not wanting to go off and bathe while he was getting ahead of her or was in close proximity. Not that she really thought Malfoy would peek at her - he would probably go bang his injured knee off something first - but the thought of being even near naked in the open with Malfoy in a mile radius was enough to accept dirt as part of her skin. She had made due with scrubbing hands and river water but it was time to get _clean_. She might have gotten the dirt and bat blood off of her yesterday, but she swore she could still feel it on her skin and clumping her hair.

Distraction was key. If he was too busy to go on ahead of her - though she knew she could catch up to him now - or not stumble upon her, she could do it. Besides, he should probably clean around the burn a little better to prevent infection... She did not want to haul a one-legged Malfoy back to the city, however much further it was or how much she prided herself on being a good person.

"Do you want to bathe?"

He blinked, her voice breaking whatever intense thoughts were causing him to stare at the water like that. She hoped he wasn't getting suicidal or something. "Was that a serious question?"

Hermione shrugged, holding out soap and shampoo, and looking at his shoulder to make it a little easier to help her... Well, she didn't know if Malfoy was still her enemy after Hogwarts. She didn't even know if she could call him her enemy in the war, since all the times she had run into him, he hadn't done anything against her. Except, perhaps, reluctantly admitting she was Hermione Granger to a room of Death Eaters, but they had known anyway. In fact, from what she knew, the only people he had even tortured were other Death Eaters, ironically.

He had still let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, though, she reminded herself. Even if he hadn't gone through with it, Dumbledore wouldn't have died if Malfoy hadn't done it. He had also joined the Death Eaters, and almost killed Katie Bell. He might not be her enemy exactly, but that didn't make him a friend.

Malfoy plucked the soap and shampoo from her hand, looking at the name written across them and raising an eyebrow at her.

"I plan on replacing it," she said, sniffing.

He didn't even say _thank you_ , but did some strange staring at her stol-- _loaned_ supplies before nodding at her. Hermione blinked at him twice before inhaling deeply, holding it for a second as she raised her eyebrows, and released it with puffed cheeks when she turned around. She grabbed her bag off the ground, throwing it over her shoulder as she walked down the river, searching for a bend or some overhanging trees for privacy.

**4:28pm**

They had only walked for an hour before Hermione had found more witch's herb a meter from where Malfoy had found more figs, and she pretended not to see the relief on his face when she had started to build a fire. The steely determination had melted away from his face when no longer confronted by a possible several miles walk, but he still looked reserved on the other side of the fire.

She handed him the cloth, noting that his knee looked less inflamed today before picking at the cracks in her nails. She hated to sleep on the ground when she had just gotten clean a few hours ago but she didn't have a choice. She could maybe fashion a bed out of bamboo and leaves, but it was a lot of work for something she would leave behind in the morning.

"How did you find out about the house in Orsova?" She had been wondering about this since she first jumped down that chimney and saw him through the ash.

"God came to me in a dream," he drawled.

She snorted before giving him a thoughtful look, her eyebrows drawing together. "You believe in God?" He gave her a derisive look. "Was that a yes or a no? I haven't been able to figure out the subtleties in your vast array of angry looks well enough to know what they mean yet."

"They're all negative and they are all in regards to you. Fairly simple."

"You should just tell me," she said a little too earnestly. "It doesn't matter now."

"It doesn't?" He looked amused in that sardonic way that she had only seen him and Snape pull off. "Then why are you asking?"

"I thought we already covered the curiosity thing. _Fairly simple_ _."_

"Yes, well, I try to block out your grating and brain-spearing inflection as much as possible."

She ignored him saying this, pressing on to what she wanted to know after a pause.

" _So_? I'm just curious, it's not going to change anything now," she snapped, and he leaned forward, his lips curling in a smirk as he looked at her intensely over the flames. She had to fight the urge to wipe her face. "What?"

"I'm waiting."

"... For?"

"For you to die from it."

**May 26; 7:38pm**

Hermione stopped walking, looking out through the trees on her left but not seeing much through the rain. They had gotten a late start that day from collecting figs, and then Hermione trying to have a rematch with silver fish. They had only started walking three hours ago, and after an hour in, it had begun to rain. It switched between drizzle and heavy rainfall, with no middle ground, and had been taking part in the latter for the last twenty minutes. Both of them were soaking wet, hair and clothes plastered to their skin, and it did nothing to help either of their moods.

Hermione glanced behind her, expecting Malfoy to be scowling at her head, but found him two meters back with his head cocked. She wasn't the only one hearing it, then, though she didn't really take it for a good thing. It sounded like something beating against the ground, growing louder or... _closer_ to them. She could hear loud cracks as branches snapped, thuds, the whining of trees, and that ever growing _fa-rum, fa-ruh, fa-rum_ of an animal running at full speed.

Hermione looked out at the trees again, listening to its massive sound, before spinning towards Malfoy. He was already turned, running awkwardly as he tried it without bending his knee too much. She passed him in two seconds, her heart pounding hard and willing her feet to match the fast beat. Her mind won out over her body's commands a few meters later, whirling back to Malfoy and his hobble-run, pain carved into his face. He was going faster than she thought he would have been able to, but it still wasn't fast enough.

She ran back to him, reaching for the handle of the dagger at his waist, and he grabbed her arm. "You can't outrun it, and I might not be able to either. Whatever it is, we'll have to fi--"

"Are you insane?" he hissed. "It sounds like a fucking _beast_."

"Do you--" She cut off as he dropped her arm, his eyes darting around at the trees

before he found a tall one, the branches starting low.

He slid the foot of his good leg in a spot between the trunk and a branch, shoving himself up and grabbing a higher branch with his hands. He pulled himself up, climbing the branches with his teeth clenched, and Hermione ran for the tree next to his. She had climbed very few trees in her life, but the sound of the running only grew harder, the cracking branches louder, and she practically flew up it. Her wet trainers slid over equally wet bark, her fingers losing grip easily, as she tried not to look at the ground. _Oh, God, oh, God_ , became the mantra under her heavy breath, but still she climbed until the closest steady branch wasn't one she could reach.

She skirted around, a death grip on the small branch above her head, biting the scream back as her foot slid out. She swayed dangerously, squeezing her eyes shut against the heavy rain and the ground, steadying herself with breath packed in her lungs. She twisted, pressing her back to the trunk and sliding down, the bark scraping her skin and the small branch bowing with her. She released it when her bum hit the branch beneath her, tilting sideways from the awkward position of her feet being one in front of the other. She threw her legs out for some balance, smacking her hands onto the thick branch under her and righting herself.

Her breath stuttered as she leaned back against the trunk, working up the nerve to look down at the ground. Unless whatever was coming was taller than four meters, she would be fine - as long as she didn't fall off. Hermione had never done too well with heights. Anything that she could manage to jump easily from was fine, but anything where she risked a broken ankle or worse was best to be avoided. She had enough adventure in her life without flying high on a broom or climbing a tree.

The animal - or whatever it was - stopped somewhere ahead of her. In her head, she imagined it to be the place where they had been standing before they ran, because that was exactly where it sounded like it was. The noise it had been making had reached a roaring level, and she had felt the tree shake from its thunderous approach. She couldn't see it through the foliage around her, but she could see Malfoy on a branch slightly lower than her own, facing forward towards where the thing had been running from. By the snapping and scraping she could hear, it sounded like she were facing it, which hadn't been the wisest choice.

There were heavy puffs of air, as if it were breathing through its nostrils, and the scraping could have been digging or preparing itself to charge. It could have been the magic again, or it could have been five different beasts she could think of off the top of her head - all dangerous, and none she wanted to ever encounter.

She looked back to Malfoy, his head turned towards her, and met the grey of his eyes through the rain. His shoulders were pushing forward with every breath, and she realized that he wasn't carrying his robe bundle anymore. He must have dropped it for the climb, and she really hoped that the animal didn't follow the scent of bananas or them because of it. She brought her own bag on top of the branch to the space between her legs, curling the top down. Malfoy's face was turned away when she looked back at him, and she didn't dare speak.

**May 27; 1:14am**

"It might be a squirrel," Hermione said, loud enough to be heard over the drizzle but hopefully not further than Malfoy.

She needed to speak to stop her eyes from drifting shut. She was wet and cold, her bum numb, and so exhausted that she felt herself drifting off despite the threat of crashing to the ground and being eaten. Malfoy's head had been turned away since after the first time he looked at her from his own tree, and now it was pitch black so she couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not.

"Or it's a massive animal. Why don't you go down there and offer yourself."

She glared in his direction, having found in their short time together that while Malfoy was always an arsehole, he was even worse when he was in pain or tired. Now that he was both, she was rethinking her decision of the whole falling off the tree and being eaten thing over leaving him.

"I--"

"Why did you stop?" He sounded angry. "You could have taken off and outran it, especially if it caught up to me. But you stopped and decided to fight some giant-sounding beast with a dagger and you're fucking _quill_."

Hermione shifted, the bark digging into a new part of her back - or at least the part it hadn't been digging into for the last twenty minutes. "You couldn't outrun--"

"So? What does it matter if I couldn't when you could? And don't give me that _that's who I am_ shit, Granger, I want a real answer."

Her eyebrows drew together, wondering what his point was and why he sounded so angry about it. "That is a real answer. I have a heart, Malfoy. Not just that one that beats, but the one that _feels_ things - ever heard of it? If you were Voldemort, I would have let it eat you in a seco--"

"But I'm a _Death Eater_ , remember?"

"A Death Eater by name more than action, and we both know it. If you had gone through with killing Dumbledore? If you had killed one of my friends? If it had been you that tortured me in your house? If you had been the one trying to kill us in the Room of Requirement? It would have been a different story. You--"

"I still let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I almost did kill him - it wasn't for a lack of trying, I assure you. And what about all those times I hurt your feelings, Granger? What about when I told them who you were at my home, or put Rosmerta under Imperius, or - well, Katie Bell shouldn't have touch--"

"I don't know!" she barked, a little too loudly. "Why-"

"Haven't you been the one bitching about my evil ways, and my hatred for Mudbloods, and--"

"There are different levels of evil, Malfoy, and only the top few are people I could leave behind to die. I don't like you, or the things you've done, or the person that you are, or the fact that you can hate--"

"Then _why_!" he yelled, and it was definitely too loud, both of them falling into silence as she held her breath and waited for some animalistic sound. "Do you people get off on _screwing_ with my _fucking_ head? You--"

"Are you talking about Harry? When Harry saved you?" She huffed a disbelieving laugh. "What is it, Malfoy? Do you have a death wish? Would you have preferred for us to leave you two there? Are--"

"I obviously value my life, Granger," he said darkly, "or else I wouldn't be sitting up in a tree in the middle of the night, or have tried killing off the Headmaster."

She stared in his direction, her fingers curling into her back as she leaned her head against the trunk. "That's true, then? About Voldemort threatening to kill you and your family if you didn't do it?"

He was silent for a long time - over seventy-two slow drops of rain falling from the leaves above her and onto the tip of her nose. "How far would you go for your family? Would you have killed the Dark Lord for them?"

"Voldemort," she said slowly. "And yes, if I could have, and I would have tried regardless. But Dumbledore was not Vold--"

"Be serious, Granger. Dumbledore was as much to our side as the Dark Lord was to yours. The leader, the one that was the most powerful, the one that had to be killed."

"But Dumbledore never killed anyone. He--"

"Wasn't killed by me. It's like a potion, Granger. We're like potions to our parents. They put in this, that, this - they know what they want you to be, what they want you to believe, the person that you should become. So they take the things that will make you be that, measure out how much of what should turn you into that, and throw it all into you. But they don't know what the fuck they're doing, or if it's right - it's just the best they know. We can almost never be what we were expected to be, no matter how hard everyone tries. And no matter what, there are going to be people who hate what or who you are, by blood, or flesh, or mind.

"We're this volatile mix of ingredients, and if the heat turns up, or something is off, we explode. We explode or turn bad, and it all goes wrong. But it's worse than that, because we're not potions, we're people. Exposed to outer circumstance that could never be controlled and always against opposing forces. So when something, an opposite ingredient, gets into us and counteracts or challenges something else - the entire potion can change, but we keep the same title. It's still expected or has to do the things it was meant to do. Do you understand this?"

Hermione stared down at the dark, in the direction of her hands on her bag, still listening intently as if he might keep talking. "But if the potion has changed, it can't do what it was meant to do. It--"

She cut off, not knowing if it was the rustle and scraping of his clothes on bark, or if he had said 'exactly'. Both of them stayed silent.

**6:53am**

She watched dawn turn the world to lightening shades of blue and green, the first rays of sun shooting beams through the trees above Malfoy's head and tired eyes. His hair looked golden in that first ray of sunlight, and with the blurry film of sleep-deprivation over her eyes, he looked unreal. Both of them were wet, though the rain had let up an hour ago, their teeth clattering in the cold. "Do you think it's gone yet?"  
He didn't answer.

**9:31am**

They had heard the beast slowly retreat about an hour after sunrise, but they had still waited just as long to make sure it was really gone before climbing down. Climbing down from trees, to Hermione, was always worse than going up. At least during the ascent she could see the way she was going - going down, you had to glance and hope for the best aim, or just feel around with your foot until you found something. Pulling yourself up a distance was scary enough, but when you had to jump a meter to another branch, it was fairly terrifying - at least to people who never agreed with height.

Though the hours she spent in the tree didn't leave her room for sleep, it did leave her with a lot of time to think. She had thought about a lot of things, and then she had mostly thought of Malfoy and what he had said about the potions. Hermione had never given herself a chance to really think about him. He had seemed fairly insignificant in the crushing spin of war, and unlike Harry, she hadn't really analyzed and replayed every moment.

Some things she did: Harry's time with Dumbledore at King's Cross, Snape, the Elder Wand, and she had read The Tales of Beedle the Bard several times and over again. There were certain images she couldn't seem to burn from her mind either: Tonks, Lupin, and Fred laid out in the Great Hall, Harry limp in Hagrid's arms, Neville in front of Voldemort, Bellatrix mad in front of her, the pain that seemed to tear her insides from her bones and rearrange them at Malfoy Manor, standing with Harry in the graveyard, Voldemort falling, and a dozen others. These were the things she thought about when she closed her eyes, when she dreamt, when she couldn't help but remember.

Out of all these memories and moments, Malfoy was only in the center of one - Harry pulling him from the flames, and then him on the floor, his dead friend's name falling brokenly through his gasps of air. It was the first time she had ever seen him...human. Human, and falling apart, and wrecked.

She still wasn't sure how Malfoy felt, but she thought she knew what he was telling her. About the things he was taught when he was a kid, and how he was raised to become a Death Eater. With Lucius Malfoy as his father, she could believe it - she couldn't imagine a very good person coming out of a parental figure who prided himself on his money and his high position in a murderous group.

_Exposed to outer circumstance...the entire potion can change_. So something had changed for Malfoy. Maybe having to kill Dumbledore, or maybe when he realized he _couldn't_ kill for the cause - that he didn't believe in it enough to become that person. She wondered when that had been... Especially if he got to the point where he had to know his family was on the line in order to do it.

Then, _...keep the same title. It's still expected or has to do the things it was meant to do._ So he tried, let in the Death Eaters, and then ran off to continue being one. Because he had to, he said. Dumbledore was dead before he could take him up on his offer, and it was too late. He lived with Voldemort and his disgraced family - a family he must have loved enough to fight for. _How far would you go for your family?_ But he was still a horrible Death Eater. He couldn't kill, could only torture other Death Eaters under threat, he couldn't let Crabbe kill her, Ron, and Harry, and he couldn't even identify Harry at his house. _Exactly_.

She didn't know how it made her feel to think of him on these terms. But she still thought he was a coward - that if he hated it that badly, he should have found a way to leave with his family. The Ministry might have been overtaken and the Order might have hated them-- Well, she could see how that would be a problem, but surely the Order would have hid them if they came...probably. Perhaps not Lucius. But he should have come earlier, when he had the chance, before he let the Death Eaters in. _Dumbledore was as much to our side as the Dark Lord was to yours._

Hermione rubbed the headache at the middle of her forehead, her pace as slow as Malfoy's in her exhaustion. He looked as drained as she felt, two bunches of bananas held under his arm as he wrung the water from his fallen robe. Perhaps...perhaps Malfoy had done the only thing he could have - and wasn't that something. To even look at it from his side and contemplate that possibility. She still didn't know how he felt about Muggle-borns, though. She could see him again, his fingers digging into her arms, sliding in the blood he must have thought was hers as he pulled her to safety in the cave. But that didn't prove that much - it didn't mean he didn't think he was better.

Malfoy turned suddenly, heading deeper into the trees and away from the riverbank. "Where are you going?"

He muttered something that she couldn't hear before she followed him, her wet clothes chafing against her skin. She didn't know how much he had changed, or who he was, but if there was one thing Hermione could always be certain on regarding

Malfoy, it was that he would always be a complete prat.

**3:01pm**

"You eat like a fucking rabbit."

Hermione jumped, feeling her face heat up. She had thought he was still sleeping when she had started eating her banana the way she preferred to eat them - nibbling the outside all the way down, until she was left with the mushy goodness of the inside. No one had seen her eat a banana like that since her mum when she was nine, and it was mostly due to the strange looks and comments along the lines of what Malfoy had just said.

"I don't know if that's a step above or below your typical 'beaver', so I'm not sure if I should be offended."

He let out a bark of sleep-clogged laughter that startled her again. "The fact that you're not sure if you should be offended when called any sort of animal--"

"Your insults have become common, Malfoy. It's hard to get offended when the person throwing the insults is mentally handicapped. If anything, I pity your lack of wit."

"This from the person who gets offended every time I--"

"That's a little different," she cut in, knowing what he was going to say and looking at him like he couldn't be serious. "Besides, that still has nothing to do with wit."

"Just because you are the person I make jokes about doesn't mean they aren't witty, Granger. But I understand that you have to lower my intelligence or humor to feel better about the lack of your own."

Malfoy sat up as she slowly chewed her banana, leveling her best _if looks could kill_ _on him_. She caught a flash of something across the sky and looked up, hoping for a broom but only seeing a couple of birds. She had tried to use her wand earlier behind the trees while Malfoy was sleeping, but it didn't work, so she doubted that the Ministry had arrived.

"When are they getting here?"

She looked at Malfoy, surprised. "Excuse me?"

"When is the Ministry supposed to get here?" His eyebrows were half-raised, pulling together slightly in his expectancy, but everything below his brow was unreadable.

"How did you know?"

He shrugged a shoulder, brushing off the leg of his pants. She noticed that he did that every time he was about to say something that proved he was better than you, but it wasn't a big deal because he had already known that. "I didn't, until now. You're not very skilled in _stealth_ , are you?"

She glared at him. "I--"

"How did you contact them? The locals think you're cursed - your _telephone troubles_ are well known."

Hermione opened her mouth and then paused, cocking her head. "Is that why the man you were talking to refused to talk to me?"

"Mm. I suppose you'll try to attack me in a mud bath again and accuse me of spreading the rumor."

She narrowed her eyes at his careless expression, wagging her finger. " _You_ were the one who pushed me in!"

"You pissed me off. I--"

"Oh, what a new concept!"

"--physically _hit_ \--" He smirked. "You have a special talent for that."

She rolled her eyes. "I live to anger you, Malfoy."

"If you're still alive, then yes, you're--"

"You know, you have an infatuation with my death. I might be worried if I didn't know your sick head didn't extend to murder."

"It's because I plan on eating you." She fell silent, blinking at him as she tried to process Malfoy's leanings towards cannibalism, and his serious expression pulled into a surprised incredulity. "Fucking hell, Granger, not like that. I-"

"What? What do you mean 'not like--" Hermione's eyes snapped open wide, her mortification turning her face a flaming red in two seconds. "Oh, God, I wasn't even-- That... _Certainly_ never, I--"

"Bloody hell, you're as red as a Weasley," he laughed out, before leaning forward, his eyebrow coming up. "You have a dirty mind, Granger. Did you learn all about it from your books? Have naughty librarian fantasies where you teach Weasley how to read?"

Hermione was completely flustered, avoiding his eyes as she tried to calm the heat in her cheeks. "I'm not the one with the dirty mind! I was surprised by your serious mentioning of cannibalism, and you turn it into something...something--"

"Carnal?" He looked entirely too amused.

Hermione huffed, standing up. "I have to go to the loo."

This was the first time she felt the need to mention it, both of them usually ignoring the other when they disappeared into the trees for a minute. She had only had to go for... _longer_ once since the clearing, mostly due to her diet. She had waited until the middle of the night when he was sleeping for that. He didn't seem to have much of a problem the two times he had come back after five minutes, except for the slightly revolted look on his face that was typical for anyone having to relieve themselves in the woods.

She glanced back to give him an evil look, expecting his amused face to be laughing back at her, but found him struggling to his feet instead.

**May 28; 10:29am**

They both stared at the faint shimmer in front of them, having already walked several meters in either direction and positioning themselves right to know that it seemed to keep extending as a magical wall across the island. They had shoved a stick through to see if it caught flames, exploded, or anything else, but nothing happened. If it hadn't been for the position of the sun when they reached it, Hermione doubted they would have even known it was there. It was sheer, just the faintest glimmer of light reflecting within the magic. It reminded her of the wall over the cave in the Balkan Mountains.

Hermione and Malfoy slowly turned their heads towards one another for a good fifteen seconds of determined staring. "I already have a burnt knee--"

"Well--"

"And I had to go first at the ledge."

"But that was--"

Hermione had been about to argue that that was their only option, and also to agree to go through the wall first, when she felt Malfoy's palm connect to the space between her shoulders, shoving her through. She held her breath, her body freezing except for her legs as they stumbled past the line. She stood awkwardly, waiting for something to happen, and turned back to Malfoy when everything appeared normal.

"I was going to do it! You can't just push someone like that! Where do-- You know what, nevermind, I should have seen it coming! Of course, you--"

"How do you feel, Granger?" He gave her a curious once-over before inspecting her expression. "You look a little animalistic, but that's fairly normal. Any _changes_ going on? Do--"

She grabbed him by the shirt with both hands, yanking him past the line. He grunted as he stumbled onto his knee, having to bend it a lot more than was tolerable in order to catch his balance. "Any _changes_ , Malfoy? You look a little like an arse, but that's fairly normal."

" _Don't_ \--"

"And don't you dare do that to me again!" She returned his glare, pulling her hand back when he smacked her finger away from its attempt to stab through the skin of his chest. He brushed his shirt off and she glanced down at his knee, debating an apology for making him injure himself before turning away from him with a sniff.

**4:03pm**

"If these enchantments are meant to keep us away from the plant," she started, pausing to work her way over a fallen tree, "why do you think there's one around the Islands keeping people _in_?"

"Ferries leave the Islands every day -- we're the only ones who can't leave. Either it recognizes the magic in our blood, or it somehow knows what we're after." Malfoy swatted at a butterfly that fluttered near his face, ignoring the sound of protest from Hermione.

It was weak anyway, as distracted as she was by Malfoy acknowledging that she had magic in her blood. It was an obvious enough and true statement, but it somehow felt strange coming from him. Something about Malfoy telling her anything with _magic, blood_ , and us with nothing negative attached, threw her off a little.

"So why keep us in? If it knows we're looking for--"

"These enchantments aren't child's play. They are set up to not only to deter us, but kill us. The wall doesn't let us leave because whoever set it up thinks we'll die, and wants us to, before we even find the plant."

"But why not just make it so the wall keeps us out? So that we can't even enter?"

He shrugged. "Maybe they couldn't do that without blocking themselves out as well - there must be someone who needed to access the Islands for the plant, whatever they used it for, and put the enchantments up in the first place. They wouldn't create anything they couldn't be immune to--"

"But all the enchantments _on_ the Islands--"

"There could be a path only they knew about, that no one could find with luck alone. Or something in the makeup of the magic that recognizes them and so doesn't affect them. The wall also blocks us from communicating with the rest of the world, so we're on our own. Whoever set it up didn't want us to get out - they didn't want word to spread, they didn't want us to use magic, and they didn't want us to find Floralis."

"Maybe it's a test," Hermione suggested, continuing at his skeptical look. "Like a test of worthiness. If we pass all of the enchantments and manage to find Floralis, then we earned the right to have it."

He laughed at her. Jerk. "I think you've read too many stories, Granger."

She glared and they lapsed into silence, the only sound being from their shoes as they walked, and the leaves sliding against them. Hermione bit her lip, glancing back at him after several minutes. "Do you think - if it's true about it wanting us dead before it will let us out - that we'll ever be able to leave while we're still alive?"

He was silent for a good minute, though she could hear his voice crackling in his throat as if he were about to speak but changed his mind. "We'll have to complete the quest, Granger. We'll have to prove our worthiness to--"

"Oh, shut up."


	13. Part Thirteen

**May 29; 8:13am**

Malfoy was awake when she looked over to where he was laying, wondering if she should start making a poultice yet. Then again, she didn't think she had seen him asleep once - she had thought he was often enough, but then he said something or moved, and his eyes were always open. She usually just couldn't tell if he was awake when it was dark and they didn't sleep any closer than three meters from one another, and usually more. Robots don't sleep, though, from what she had heard.

"What are you going to do when the Ministry is there?" she asked, having thought about it ten minutes ago.

"Walk faster."

**12:48pm**

"Is it just me, or do you smell salt?"

He stopped when she did, glancing at her when she turned around, and wiped at the leg of his pants. "I smelt it thirty minutes ago, Granger."

"I think we should wash off... In case we get to the sea and find people."

"Being clean isn't going to make them think any better of you. You still have that hair to deal with."

"Ha ha," she said dryly, pulling her bag off her shoulder. "Do you still have the stuff I gave you?"

He gave her a tired look, like her asinine questions were something akin to trudging through quicksand for hours. "No, I fed them to the squirrels. They love bath products, you know."

"Right then. I'll uh...go up here."

She started walking back the way they had come, hearing Malfoy start walking farther away. She glanced back, walking until she could no longer see him, and then turned for the river.

**3:47pm**

Malfoy was looking a little grey, his fingers clenched hard into his robe, but she didn't think she could stop him from walking if she climbed his back. The scent of salt had gotten gradually stronger until the wind was carrying the unmistakable sea smell in full force to them. The river had started to curve, but they followed where the wind was blowing into their faces instead. An hour later and she could hear the water, the sound of people as a hum.

It was louder now, some voices yelling out and distinguishable from the buzz, and they could see the tops of buildings over the trees. They starting sloping downwards, the trees and vegetation thinning out until they emerged from the forest completely. Only small plants and olive trees were spread sparsely across the grass of the hill, and hundreds of people carried on below them. Malfoy looked like he was barely holding onto himself, their descent down the hill putting a lot of his weight onto his knee. If he were a friend, she would have reached out to give him some support, but she figured Malfoy would prefer losing his leg over accepting her help for something like walking.

Maybe a person who during the war had lost so much of what they used to be proud of, held onto what they had like a port in the storm. Malfoy used to exaggerate his injuries when they were kids, but now he barely acknowledged its existence if she looked or asked about it. He hated for her to see him weak, though she understood that, because showing weakness to Malfoy was never something she wouldn't mind doing.

He came to a stop when they reached the bottom of the hill, standing on the foreign-looking cement that made up one of the small, narrow paths through the buildings. She stood awkward and hesitant, adjusting her bag on her shoulder and looking at the city she had first entered when she came to Lipari. It felt like a month ago.

"Shouldn't you be off to find the Ministry?" he drawled, but his voice sounded a little tight and he was sweating too much. His knee was probably pounding in pain.

"Yeah. Well... I would say good luck, Malfoy, but I really wouldn't mean it."

He smirked. "I hope you fail bitterly."

"The only thing I might fail at is being there to see you do so. I'll be too busy with the plant."

"If you mean mourning your loss of it," he shot, and she snorted, sending him a glare before making her way into the city.

**May 30; 2:28pm**

Hermione stared down at the crystal blue water of the sea, slowly turning her eyes up to the distant mass of Vulcano. She had searched the city, asked around about large groups of British tourists, had looked for any trace of them. This would be the first place they would arrive coming from Vulcano, and they would have gotten here by now - there wasn't a sign of the Ministry anywhere.

**May 31; 12:04pm**

Hermione watched the ferries arriving for hours, contemplating her next move. She couldn't just wait around for them for days or a week. She didn't know if they hadn't gotten her postcard yet, they didn't think it was important enough to come right away, or if Harry had decided to do it on his own. She highly doubted the second, and she thought Harry would know this was serious enough to include the Ministry - especially since she had made sure to include information about the barrier and stripped magic.

If they didn't get here soon, she would have to go and continue looking. Though it would be a lot easier if she had a group of people with her -- able to spread out and cover more land, even if they couldn't break the barrier -- she wasn't sure if she was supposed to. She was almost positive she had been here before, and she didn't think the Ministry had factored into it - whether that was to detriment or not, she couldn't know. She wasn't sure about anything that her and Malfoy's matching scars could have meant, but she couldn't ignore it, no matter how much she wanted to.

She hadn't studied old blood magic extensively - she knew the basics of how to do certain, smaller things, but she didn't know anything on this level. Blood magic was notoriously dangerous to mess around with, so while she had read its history, she had never practiced it. At least not at any time she could _remember_. But she did know that every mention she had read about blood magic and life lines pertained to one thing - protection.

Given that the rumors about the plant included time travel, there might be a possibility that she and Malfoy had not only _already been here_ , but had needed one another for protection at some point. Had needed one another for protection against something far worse than an enclosed space in the forest, bat illusions, or light that set them on fire. A protection so desperate that they performed dangerous, ancient blood magic, and that _Draco Malfoy_ must have taken her _dirty blood_ into his own.

She didn't know why they would have gone back in time, though - unless something had gone wrong. If the magic had gone wrong, going back didn't change it since they still had the scars. Blood magic couldn't be undone, so they either failed in doing it, the protection hadn't been enough, or it was the wrong one. Was forgetting part of the time travel from the plant? She had had extreme deja vu up until...up until she had learned about the plant. What had _happened_?

She couldn't know, as much as it bothered her not to. But whatever had happened, she was fairly certain she needed to stick with Malfoy no matter how they felt about it. This was her life, and tolerating Malfoy was worth keeping it - at least until she got the plant. He still wasn't going to get it before her, scarred hands or not.

**5:12pm**

Hermione squinted, taking a step forward to get a better look, and then changed her mind as she stepped back between the two buildings. Cormac Clone was across the street, laughing with two other men and a woman, gesturing to a shop window. Hermione started walking backwards, pulling her bag around to her front, and waited until she was behind one of the buildings to dig. She found the silver key in the zipper section, grinning wildly at it.

**June 1; 1:20pm**

She tried several spells on top of black rock that fell into the sea. None worked, and she had to stop herself from throwing her wand into the water, angrily staring at the ferries docking at Vulcano.

**5:32pm**

Hermione would make an excellent stalker. Not that she would ever decide to stalk anyone, her obsessions dealing with books rather than people, but if she were, she would be very skilled. She had Harry and Ron to thank for that, and the corridors of Hogwarts.

She had followed Cormac Creep back to his hotel yesterday. The doors to the rooms were inside, but there was peeling tape along the top of the key that told her it belonged to room 509, anyway. She had waited in the alley next to the hotel, the hill beside it, and then the shop across from it. The shop owner kept sending her suspicious looks, and she was now positive that the young boy following her did not like her but was sent to watch her, especially when she picked up a keychain and his eyes started twitching. Clone man didn't disappoint, though, coming out of the hotel doors with the people from yesterday, all of them dressed up.

They were probably off to dinner, so she figured she had an hour, thirty minutes at minimum. It was plenty of time to take a quick shower and take what she needed. She would replace it, of course - she had no plans on steal-- _loaning_ something from him, and would drop money off here when she did the hotel in Vulcano.

She started across the walkway, making sure the group was gone, and pressed the hot key harder into her palm.

**6:10pm**

"Tsk, tsk." She looked up at the sound as she crossed the walkway, her excitement numbing over at the smug look on Malfoy's face. "Did you just come out of that hotel building? You look... _clean_."

"It's okay, Malfoy. I won't hold your dirtiness against you."

His eyebrows came up, his wand spinning between his fingers, and she realized that he didn't have his robe. She had just tried to use magic not five minutes ago, so she knew it couldn't have been working for him. His knee was bandaged as well, a patch of white through the hole in his trousers. She stared at the rotating wand until he stopped it, looking up when he started to speak.

"Go on, Granger. Call me a Mudblood. This can be therapeutic, I'm sure. I heard there's a Muggle psychology about things children experience effecting them later in life, though they aren't aware that's the reason." He pressed his tongue against the inside of his teeth, rubbing a knuckle across his eyebrow. "I wonder if it's the Mudblood worth thing or something else that turned you into a whore."

"Wha-- _Did you just call me a whore_?" She realized it came out a little _screechy_ when he winced, looking behind her at the hotel.

He looked amused by the whole thing, and a little like he had just stumbled upon the best dirty secret ever, so Hermione did not think he was paying close enough attention to the warning signs. "You come out of a hotel at night, just out of a shower, and holding fruit. Shagged someone for a shower and fruit? What _would_ \--

Hermione blushed, in part from anger and also because she had never really talked to anyone about sex, in any way, since her mum sat her down when she wasten. By then, Hermione had already read about the basics of sex and hadn't needed the talk at all. "Did you go into an area that sucked out what little brain you had left? I will--"

"Is that one of your pickup lines? Do you--" He caught her arm before her palm could reach his cheek, clicking his tongue at her as his jaw tightened. "Not this time, Granger."

"Call me a whore, joke or not, and--" She cut herself off, noticing that Malfoy had gone very pale, which was saying something when he was the fish man himself.

She followed his line of sight to her hand, his fingers still around her wrist, and stared at her knuckles in confusion before she remembered. The scar, of course. She hadn't told Malfoy anything about it, and there wasn't much of a way he could have seen it before. She licked her lips, trying to figure out what she should say, but knowing that she had to say something soon, when Malfoy dropped her arm. He turned, walking away from her.

"Malfoy!" He didn't even flinch. "Malfoy! I think it means we should stick together--"

He turned then, the vein along his temple making an appearance, and she knew she had started on the wrong thing. "You _knew_?"

"I saw it a couple days ago, but I didn't know... I _still_ don't really know what it means. But something must have happened, and if it was bad, we're going to need each other--"

"Or maybe it was because we were with each other. You're like a...a giant fucking _Accio_ for all bad situations in the universe! It was always you and your friends who were at the center of everything insane at--"

"That was more Vold--"

"--a fucking death trap of doom. You--"

"I think it means that we're going to need one another! That we already did! I know we're not going to like it, either one of us, but this _means_ something, Malfoy! We have to accept the fact that we must have found the plant and traveled back, and it had to be because something happened that we had to get away from or change. And if we weren't together, it might have been worse! Blood magic along the life line, Malfoy, _you know what that means_ _!_ If we--"

"Just _shut_. The fuck. _Up_ ," he hissed, staring back at her for three seconds before turning and walking away again.

**June 2; 2:29pm**

Hermione assembled sandwiches for the better part of four hours while the owner of the cart happily chattered (on and on and on) despite knowing she didn't understand him. It wasn't the first time that the language barrier had been annoying, but it was the first time she had found it funny while he laughed with her at their hand gestures and odd faces. She hadn't even forced her help on him like she had the store owner on Vulcano, but he brought her behind his little cart when she had stood watching him make sandwiches - hungrily - for five minutes. It had been a bit masochistic, but it had paid off in the end.

Literally, at that. She bought trail mixes, another water bottle, a toothbrush, two more lighters, hand sanitizer, and had walked away with two sandwiches for herself. Her bag was filled up now, especially after the toothpaste, toilet paper, bath products, bed sheets, and metal ice bucket she had nabbed from the hotel last night.

It was ridiculous how happy these things made her. She was learning why the homeless coveted the things they collected so much.

**7:13pm**

He found her by the docks, and she wondered how long he had been looking for her to find her there. "Where's the Ministry?"

She decided to be honest. "I don't know."

"With magic like this...did you really think your letter, or whatever you sent, would make it through the barrier?"

She was worried - not only about handling the task before her on her own, but also that no one knew where she was and they would be worried themselves. She had tried the phones again with no luck, and had even asked another person to make the call for her while she stood meters away, but it still went dead. She felt bad, and she was sorry that they were bound to be thinking the worst, but she didn't know what else she could do.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, Granger. Along the coast, that way, in the afternoon."

They stared at one another before she nodded, Malfoy giving a solid nod back before he left.

**June 3; 12:17pm**

Hermione stood near the coast, sand crunching under her feet as she ran her fingers up and down the strap of her heavy bag, waiting. She had been standing there for three hours, not wanting to miss him and doubting that he would have waited himself, but she could see him now. He was walking a little better, perhaps getting some better treatment for his burn along with the bandage somehow. He barely looked at her, heading towards the trees above the sand line, so she started up the small hill to fall in behind him. She followed, taking a deep breath as she passed into the trees.

"There's a magical enchantment up here," she told him, knowing this was the way towards the grotto. She had been planning on going by herself today, but it was fine because, better walking or not, he was still injured, she was faster, and he didn't even know it was there.

"If I cared to make you feel better about sharing useless information, I might act surprised."

This _had_ to be some sort of test to prove her character, laughable or not. There's no other way fate would have stuck her with Malfoy if that wasn't the case. She was going insane - by the time she left this island, she would be certifiable. He had another thing coming if he didn't think she was going to take him down with her.

**1:01pm**

Hermione pulled Malfoy back the moment he grabbed his head, stumbling over his feet. She picked up the apple that had fallen out of his robe bundle - though she had no idea where he had managed to get it from - and handed it back to him as he released a breath.

"You've been here?"

"Yeah. I...well, I think we should use vines. We'll cut them down and carry them with us. If we crawl through the enchantment and lay the vines as we go, then we can follow the line of them. As you felt, it's very confusing. It makes you lose all sense of direction and place."

"So we probably won't go straight, vines or not. We can end up going in circles for hours."

"Maybe - but even if we don't go straight, as long as we get out of it on whatever side. If we go in circles, eventually we're going to feel the vines we laid before and now to start going in a different direction. And if we go in straight, and put our hand out straight with the vine - we should keep in that general direction."

"And if not, we can follow the vines back--"

"To get out. Exactly. I think as long as we keep focused on the feel of the vines, we can feel our way out on either end. It will keep us grounded while everything is spinning and tipping and..." She waved her hand in the air, etcetera, and he nodded after a moment.

"Fine. You can go first." He scowled at her hesitant look. "I don't want your arse in my face either, Granger. Trust me," she snorted, "I'll be keeping my distance."

"It wasn't about that. I was thinking- Are you going to be... I mean, you shouldn't put pressure..."

He sneered at her. "Worried about my health?"

Hermione grumbled about dragging him across the island by his hair if he screwed his leg up too much to walk, yanking vines as Malfoy pulled out the dagger.

**2:18pm**

Hermione had vomited twice, her banana breakfast resulting in mush and stomach bile. After Malfoy had demanded she do it as far from his crawling space as possible, he had started gagging himself, which left her a lot less embarrassed. She felt like she was drunk and trying to go to sleep, the world spinning around her, but worse than even that - it wasn't just circling, but _rolling, morphing_ , like the worst amusement park ride ever. Her stomach rolled with it, twisting and turning until she constantly had to swallow back against the rise in her throat. She had wanted to keep her eyes shut as it made it just slightly better, but she had to keep them open and study each flash of world in front of her for any opening or plant.

"More," she said, waving her hand behind her as she reached the end of the vine she had laid down.

It was about all she could get out without throwing up again. The first time she had run out of the vines wrapped around her shoulders, Malfoy had handed one up to her with a little too much touching of her back and ribcage. When she had loudly protested his fingers, he had yelled that he couldn't very well hand her the vines when all he saw was the clouds. He would put his hand somewhere on her back after that, letting her reach down to take the vine from him. At least he hadn't accidentally touched her bum -- though, when she had warned him not to, he had made it clear that he was surprised he hadn't from the enormity.

Bastard.

Hermione was halfway through laying the next one down when the world jerked and stopped, her bowed head only seeing the ground. She let out a strangled cry of relief and victory, throwing the rest of the vine out in front of her and scrambling the rest of her body from the enchantment.

"What?" Malfoy was frozen and rigid from her noise, two hands and a knee connected to the ground with his injured leg held straight behind him.

"It's the end, come on." She saw the tightness of his face be replaced by eagerness, and turned to look where she was.

She could see a small clearing through the trees as she walked forward, four meters of tree-less space wrapping around the edge of the coast. The wind was blowing hard today, sending the waves crashing against the black rock two meters down from the edge of land. There was a single olive tree at the edge, and Hermione scanned the flowers around her on habit more than pleasure.

"How did you know about that place?" Malfoy asked, dropping his robe by their feet as she rubbed at her nausea.

"I told you, I've been here. I told you at the clearing, as well - about how it didn't affect the Muggle."

"Why didn't we follow the vine you left last time?"

"Because I didn't get through it," she said like it was obvious.

Malfoy slowly nodded, a contemplative look on his face as he stared at the olive tree. Hermione looked at it as well, searching for what he found so interesting. She wondered if he had just tricked her into answering that question again, like when he had called her a whore to find out what she was doing at the hotel. Accuse her of something she was bound to defend herself against so he could get the answer he really wanted. Sneaky Slytherin. She would have to-- She stopped thinking when she turned her suspicious look towards him and he pulled up his shirt, kicking his shoes off. She saw a blur of skin before focusing her eyes on his face as it cleared his shirt, his eyes on the sea as he started running forward. Hermione gave him a startled look, dropping her bag and toeing her trainers off as he threw his shirt behind him.

She ran after him as he dove into the sea, hearing the suction of water as it washed in and out of something. She spotted it when she leaped off the rock; the thin, long strip of open space at the edge of an opening, in the land that came out farther to their left, almost completely hidden by the jagged rock rising out of the water.

Her feet kicked just once in the air before she hit the water, sinking down until the rush of waves shoved her back against the rock wall. She surfaced, taking a breath just before a wave hit her in the face, pushing salt water to the back of her throat. She spit it out, kicking off the wall as Malfoy surfaced meters in front of her, coming up swimming, his arms making long strokes. Hermione swam hard, noticing that he was only kicking with one leg, gaining on him as he swam around the pointed rock.

He disappeared behind it before she even reached it, and once she had circled, he was working his way into the grotto. Hermione kicked her sock-clad feet off the rock for an extra push, fighting distance and the rush of waves that tried to push her off course. She entered the grotto less than thirty seconds after him, pushed in on the crest of a wave. The space was less than a meter in width, but five strokes and it opened into a space around four by five meters. The water was bright blue, reflecting off rust, blue-green, and burnt yellow minerals embedded in the black rock walls.

Hermione gaped at the absolute beauty around her, in the peace of only her and Malfoy's breathing rushing into the silence, the suction of the water, and the waves now soft against their backs. She didn't even want to move in case she disturbed the tranquility of such a place. Malfoy didn't seem to have much of a problem with that, spinning around as he searched the walls. It reminded Hermione that this was more of a business trip that didn't afford time for ogling beautiful things - if the weeks hiking through wilderness and sleeping on the ground hadn't taught her that already. She dove under with just a little regret and bitterness, opening her eyes to the burn of salt as she searched around the underwater wall for anything.

She didn't expect to find anything, so the tunnel came as a surprise, underwater in the center of the far wall. She pushed up, taking two deep breaths as she sent a glance around the room to find Malfoy gone, and dove back under. She had just her head through the darkened tunnel when something slick slid along her skin, bending for grip. Hermione yelled out in her throat, slapping his hands away with one hand and trying to pull down her ballooned shirt with the other. His touch was startling, unwanted, and foreign, but he had a grip on her hips and she sailed under him as he yanked her back from the tunnel.

Hermione reached out and grabbed his ankle as half his body disappeared through the opening, yanking him back as he yanked forward, but her need for oxygen was too strong to continue the struggle. She let him kick out of her grasp, breaking for the surface, and sucked in three breaths before going back down. She grabbed the edges of the tunnel to propel herself forward, kicking her feet as the water stung her eyes again.

The length of her body was in, her heels hitting the ceiling as she kicked, when she met Malfoy's feet. She had expected him to be a lot farther than that, unless he found something, so she shoved the back of his feet as hard as she could. If he found something, she could push him away from it, and if he was somehow inspecting the floor in the black water, he would have to move so she could reach oxygen somewhere. She couldn't hold her breath forever, unless she was _dead_ , and that wasn't an option.

Malfoy didn't move an inch, but then pushed _back_ , trying to shove her back out. She grabbed blindly in the darkness, getting hold of his pant leg to slow her momentum, but it didn't help when he kept pushing back. She shoved him forward again, bringing herself with him, but then he pushed back so hard that she was halfway out of the tunnel. She went to push him again when she thought that he might not be trying to push _her_ out, so much as he was trying to get out himself. She reached out to the walls, propelling herself back as he followed.

She came up for air the second light surrounded her again, breathing in deep and falling to the side as Malfoy's legs came out between hers. She pushed water in two strokes, putting some distance between them as he came up gasping and coughing. She watched him, his head bent to the water and his palm on the wall above his head.

"What was it?"

He took a second to answer, his shoulders pushing forward with every breath, and she watched his shoulder blades expand. He had a scar along the left one, and a single, small beauty mark halfway down his back, on the right of his spine. It was either that or a piece of dirt, though she doubted it would have survived while he was cutting through the water just before.

"Go down and find out - or you can just try to _drown_ me again."

"I thought you were trying to push me back!"

"I was!" he yelled, running his fingers through his hair to plaster it back against his skull. "To reach _air_!"

"How was I to know? I--"

"The frantic backtracking of my person into yours? O--"

"Well...sorry, but I couldn't have known that," she rushed. "Was it an enchantment?"

"No." His mouth stayed open as if to say more but he licked the salt from his lips instead, looking up at the ceiling.

Hermione went to look up as well when she noticed a ring on his chest, hanging near his heart from a necklace of twine. She had never seen it before, though she tried to avoid looking at him below the face when he decided he didn't want his shirt wet. It was a silver band, slightly tarnished, with a solid black strip in the center that circled completely around it, from what she could tell. She glanced up from further scrutiny to find him looking back at her, his face blank.

"Nice ring." He didn't say anything. "Why aren't you wearing it? On your finger, I mean."

He wiped the water off his face, giving her a hostile look before turning his eyes to examine the walls again. Hermione scanned them quickly before she glanced at the ring again and turned, swimming out.

**June 4; 12:19pm**

"So how did you get your knee wrapped?" He continued walking without a word. "Stole it from somewhere?"

"You would think so."

It seemed his method of getting information out of her didn't work so well on himself. She shifted her bag, the metal clinking from the ice bucket. He had stopped giving it curious looks this morning, either seeing what was making the noise or figuring that he would soon enough.

"I made sandwiches." That got him to turn his brooding look towards her. "On Vulcano, I helped sell some souvenirs to tourists and then, here, I helped a man make sandwiches. It's how I got some of the supplies."

He still didn't answer her question or say anything at all. If he was honestly mute, she would have been a lot less annoyed, but she was almost positive that he was doing it on purpose. She had picked up free tourist pamphlets from a few shops and they contained a lot of redundant information, but she had read them _repeatedly_ anyway. She had even grabbed the Italian version to one of her English ones, comparing them until she learned some of the language.

Her brain was a massive information processor that needed stimulation, and now it was _bored_. She had thought about everything since she learned about the plant, replaying memories and theorizing, pondering the magic here, and had thought _far_ too much about Malfoy. The plant, Malfoy, trees, survival - that was it. She needed conversation, she needed new knowledge, she needed _stimulation_.

Malfoy was about as stimulating as dripping water _._ _Drip, drip, drip_. Sure, it was something different at first, but then it just became monotonous before it started driving her to the brink of insanity. She wanted to tear the tap off just to make it stop, or gush out a new sound. She contemplated throwing pebbles at him at random intervals just to watch his reaction.

Hermione sighed, pushing past him so he lagged behind her from his injury. She had to walk faster than she did before to keep ahead of him, but it was still pretty easy. She could practically feel his eyes burning into the back of her head.

"Look, Malfoy,"-- she was sure he had just groaned --"we both aren't too happy with having to do this together, but you've faced the facts like I have, or you wouldn't even be here. Fine, we're not friends. I'm sure you'll still try to get the plant before me, even though you won't - but we don't need to make this harder than it already is. This means no offensive words, no bringing up you-- the past, among other things, and we can act cordial. Like adults. No matter what our past is, we both know that there is going to be a moment in the future, tonight or next month, where we are going to need the other to save our lives. That's the important thing now."

She had been figuring out how to say that since before they even got back to the city. A little dramatic to sink in the point, but true; eloquent without being too much of a speech; the basics, but leaving room for the details later. She had memorized four different versions of it to use depending on the situation, and was contemplating if she had used the right one in the silence that followed.

"You bounce when you walk."

What? "What?"

"It's like the ground is elastic. All your hair flies up like it's trying to attack everything around it - more so than usual. It's the most annoying walk I've ever seen."

Hermione stopped walking, turning to him in offense. "Wha-- That's all you have to say? You didn't even _acknowledge_ anything! Were you even listening?"

"This is why you're going to end up with a house full of cats and old books, and an equally lonely future spread out before you when you're - how old are you now? You're a fucking nag. And why the hell do you have such a perky walk? Like rubber balls attached to the bottom of your trainers - all those books you carried around at Hogwarts should have left you hunchback and lumberin--"

"Oh! Maybe I should walk around like the most self-centered, arrogant--"

"Ah, that didn't take you long, did it? Well, I've no _idea_ where this is going."

"--in the world instead! How is it that you walk? Oh--" She shoved her nose in the air, sneering at the ground in front of her as she swayed her shoulders and raised an eyebrow in her best attempt. "Like a--"

"I would show you the true ridiculousness of _your_ walk, but I can't sink down low enough to reach your level of hypocrisy and--"

"My--" She cut off on a growl. "See? See! This is what you do to me! Are you happy now? Feeling better that you're not the only one angry and--"

"Fine. You wanted to be civil? You dropped your bracelet a mile back."

"Don--" Hermione gaped at her bare wrist and then flashed her eyes up to him.

"And you just tell me _now_?"

He shrugged a shoulder, eyebrows raised. She growled at him again, taking off

the way they came. "Don't forget your _swagger_ ," he called.

A twig broke from the tree as it scraped along her arm. She bent to pick it up, turning and chucking it at his retreating back. It hit his head and she grinned, a childish victory, before walking away. The twig thwacked loudly against the tree next to her a second later, but she didn't even bother turning around.

"You missed!"

**3:37pm**

She had searched everywhere along the path they had taken and around it, going three miles back, upturning logs and running her hands through grass. She walked back, defeated and upset. Harry and Ron had given that to her - it might have been just a piece of jewelry, but it _meant_ something. It was a little part of them that she carried around with her always.

She was furious with Malfoy, and she was blaming him for this. If he had told her when it fell off, then it could have been back on her wrist right now. If she had found it, she would have been a lot less angry, but losing it had definitely made it even worse. She regretted the rather immature way she had handled herself earlier, especially after her speech about not doing it. She was a bigger person than that, and he had reduced her into stupidity -- _his_ forte. Throwing sticks, mocking his walk - that wasn't the way to deal with Malfoy. No, she needed witty, biting, _annihilating_ insults, and big, heavy objects. _Yes_.

She had to run back to catch up to him, and the chafing of her jeans from the sweat on her skin was just making her more angry. Every branch that hit her or rock that tripped her, it was his fault. It wouldn't have happened had he _told her_ before, and she wouldn't have had to go back. She wouldn't have lost it.

"Malfoy!" she yelled when she saw a flash of his shirt, but he didn't stop.

She slowed her run, dragging in oxygen and clutching her side. She pulled her bag off her shoulder, convinced that it was making her more hot and sweaty and fanned at herself, using her shirt to wipe the sweat off her face. If he had been reduced to his ferret self again, she might have been inclined to start a fire. She glared evilly at the back of his head as she twisted through the trees.

"How dare you! That might have meant nothing to you, but it meant something to me!"

"I feel like I've heard this before," he muttered.

"Why can't you be a decent human being? What is _so_ wrong with you that--"

"Are you breaking up with me, Granger?"

"Be serious!" she barked. "I know I can't trust you, but I would like to think that the current situation calls for a temporary change to that matter, and a little more respect! With the magic out here, the sort of people looking for the plant, the danger, and the Scar of Ruin," she snatched the bracelet that was dangling from his two fingers, "we need to--"

She jerked her head down, opening her palm to look at the bracelet. _Her_ bracelet. Her eyes snapped up to his, her mouth falling open. "I didn't tell you it was back there or to go look," he said.

Oh, _yes_ , heavy _sharp_ objects, with-- He coughed as her arm smacked into him, wheezing as the oxygen left his lungs.


	14. Part Fourteen

**7:14pm**

Malfoy was still angry over the hit to his stomach, and she was still angry over her pointless search due to his misleading information. They weren't talking to one another, the air around them stiff, but that wasn't anything new. Despite how much the lack of knowing of their future disaster inspired panic and fear inside of her, she wished it would happen soon. Not only would she know then and be able to do something about it, but she also would no longer have to be _exposed_ to the Bag of Bad Things that made up Draco Malfoy's person.

She had contemplated their future nearly every time she _thought_. She had dreamt about it, tried to remember everything that happened in her 'dream' of Malfoy all those months ago. All she could remember was feeling lost, a pair of trousers, and then Malfoy's face. She was pretty sure he had put part of the plant in his mouth before sticking a piece in hers, and then he had said something about Valentine's Day - the day she had woken up on the floor. No - no, the day she had _traveled_ back to. She couldn't remember anything before that, and considering her dj vu up until she learned of the plant, someone had either erased her memory of anything dealing with the plant, or the plant had done it itself.

She also remembered pain. A deep, burning, tearing her apart sort of pain. If Malfoy had sent them back, they must have needed to change something, or they had been dying - which also meant they had to change something before the past became the future. Or...the future...became the future? The past-future? She was clueless about how to change it, or if they even could. If their future was determined and they didn't know how it had led to that, they were doomed to repeat it again, and again. God, she would be stuck cycling through the same months with Malfoy _over, and over, and over_! She must have done something horrible in a past life. She must have drowned puppies and slaughtered children.

_But_ , Hermione thought, looking over at Malfoy, if they hadn't seen the scar, surely they would have left the other by now. There was no way they would have stayed partnered up once they reached the city again. So maybe they would change it because they already had. They also had the benefit of _knowing_ something was coming.

She hated it. She hated not having any facts but the one that something bad was going to happen. She felt defenseless - like she was struggling against a predetermined future that could never be changed, but that she _had_ to change. There was no way she was going to go through this with Malfoy for the rest of her life. Them just being together now must be different than the first time, but she didn't know if that would be enough.

She looked over at him as he rubbed some sort of ointment on his burn. Who knew where he had got it from. She remembered him in front of the hotel without his robe bundle, which seemed strange that he would leave it somewhere. Maybe he had helped someone like she had and got money - or someone was helping him. She still didn't know what the man on Vulcano had told him, shown him, or helped him with, but Malfoy had been in a much better mood with him than her, certainly.

_June 5; 7:18am_

She didn't see Malfoy anywhere when she woke up, but his robe was still there, folded over _things_. She knew he had some food in there, but after seeing him with the ointment last night, she was curious about what else he had in there. She didn't think it would be anything important if he left it, so it wasn't _really_ an invasion of privacy. It was more like a...checking food supplies thing.

She looked around to make sure he wasn't somewhere close and then got up, staring down the four meters of space between her and his robe. She picked up a stick to open the flaps, as if she were about to poke a dead animal. She'd only taken three steps towards it when she heard the crunching of footsteps and looked up to see a flash of skin through the trees. She hurriedly threw the stick, brushing her hand off on her jeans as he came fully into her line of vision. His eyes narrowed just slightly on hers and then darted over to where the stick had landed.

"Do you have to walk around in your underwear all the time?" She really wished she hadn't said that, but it was the first thing that popped into her head for a change of subject.

His eyebrows drew down and his eyes followed, looking down at himself. "A couple times equals all the time? Does skin offend you, Granger? I'm sure you've never seen a man in front of you without his shirt, but I'll let you count pictur--"

"Of course, I have. I just don't see why you feel the need to walk aroun--"

"Because I was catching fish? And I'm wet? It's all right, Granger, I'm sure you'll never, _ever_ be exposed to such _perversity_.”

"I don't _care_ ," it was weird, "I'm just asking a simple--"

"You're blushing."

"I am _not_ blush--"

"Fuck, Granger, the sight of a male torso makes you embarrassed--"

"This is anger." She waved at the smudge of red across her cheekbones. "This is angry coloring, Malfoy."

"--more of a prude than I ever--"

"I am not embarrassed! It's just a little weird to see you--"

"A male body for the first time? I'm sure it won't ruin your sensib--"

"Malfoy, if I were to start walking around here in my underwear--"

"Repulsive."

" _Exactly_."

His eyebrow came up, a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. "I've had much better reactions--"

"Oh, please."

"But I don't plan on stopping, Granger. I'm quite comfortable with my body, and it's not like it's unnecessary. So if you feel the need to walk around in your knickers to get back at me, go ahead. I promise I won't look without scratching my eyeballs out first."

"Do let me know when you're going to do that. I'd love to watch," she snapped, offended, despite the fact that she had just told him she found him repulsive as well.

She'd always known that Malfoy found her repulsive to some degree, but it had been her blood before. Something that didn't make sense. He gave her dirty looks, disgusted faces, and avoided touching her even if he had to leap away from her in the corridor. Those things hurt, to actively repulse another person, to have them think you were _infected_. So much to the point that standing near them caused them to feel _dirty_. But she always told herself it was her blood, her heritage, something completely insignificant. Not that looks were truly significant to her, but to have it not be because of someone's ignorance, and just the 'repulsiveness' of her appearance, was something a lot different.

Then she reminded herself that while she wasn't the most beautiful of women, Malfoy's tastes amounted to Pansy Parkinson, which meant he had none.

He watched her pull the bucket out of her bag as he started to cut up the fish, and she sniffed at him, setting it down on the ground. "We can try this, so you don't have to hold the tin."

She glared at him and his strange expression before he spoke. "What the hell do you do, rob hotels?"

"I take them on _loan_."

"Right."

**5:41pm**

"Working up to the knickers, Granger?"

She glared at him, making sure the bed sheet was completely secured around her again as she hung her wet, washed clothes over the branches. "I had to wash my clothes, and this is better than putting them on wet again."

He gave her weird look. "What are you, the Queen of the Jungle? You--"

"If it makes you my servant."

"You can dress it up in a sheet..." He clicked his tongue, giving a quick side-tilt of his head.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Frodo."

"What?"

"What?"

He narrowed his eyes.

**June 6; 10:31am**

"If you cough in my direction _one more time_ ," he hissed.

"I covered it! It's just a little cough. If you can't handle it, go walk somewhere else!"

"Oh, the pleasure would be mine, but I _can't_. Our _lives_ might depend--" he said, mocking her.

"I'm going to cough in your face."

"Try it."

**6:59pm**

Malfoy coughed, his nostrils flaring as he looked at his fist before giving her a death glare.

**June 7; 2:05pm**

Malfoy looked like a haggard monster as they woke, viciously coughing, sneezing, and limping from his knee. He looked pasty and sickly, and Hermione tried to avoid the general direction of his air, her slight cough gone today.

**June 8; 7:28am**

It was the first time she had ever seen Malfoy sleeping. It was very strange to see his eyes shut, an arm thrown over his hip, and the other under his head, fingers curled. It wasn't even his vulnerability that made her keep watching, but how _relaxed_ he was. There was no tightness around his eyes or in the set of his shoulders. He looked peaceful, like he wasn't about to slash his way out of his skin, and there was an odd sort of innocence to him. Almost childlike, despite the hard line of his jaw and the very adult features. She huffed a laugh at the thought of him being _innocent_ , and snickered when she realized he pouted his lips a little in his sleep.

He looked like one of those models that try to have a fierce face down the runway. Or like those girls who always push out their lips in photographs because it's somehow 'sexy'. Lavender had looked like a duck until she stopped pushing them out so far. Malfoy didn't look like a duck, but...well, she wasn't sure what he looked like. Strange, she called it.

**9:41am**

"You didn't put anything weird in here, did you?"

She had to stop herself from laughing every time he went to take a sip out of the large bucket.

"No, just thyme, rosemary, and eucalyptus. I've been collecting different things as I found them since you burnt your leg. You never know."

"Morbid."

"I like to be prepared."

"Mm. I wouldn't put it past you to attempt poisoning me."

"Which only goes to show how little you know me. Besides, if I'm going to poison you, I'll wait until my life may not... _depend_ on you." She said the last bit like she tasted something rotten.

"You never know. Tea is easy to hide things in if it's strong enough." They stared at one another, his lips paused over the rim of the bucket, her eyes slowly narrowing as his eyebrows matched the speed in rising.

"You!" she yelled, pointing at him. He took the sip like she hadn't said anything or was currently jumping to her feet. "You found Astherbey!"

"Who?"

"Oh-ho, _a_ _ha_! Don't lie to me! You met Astherbey, or at least drank some of the tea!" She was adamant - she _knew_.

"Did I?"

"Where did you find her?" She didn't even give him time to answer, a new thought popping up. "That's how you found out about Orsova! You drank the tea! The mountains! You--"

"Where were the figs? There, or over on the--"

"Just admit it! That's how you found out about it! Were you the one who ransacked the place in--"

"I didn't ransack _any_ place of hers. I didn't even know there was more than one."

"Where did you find her?" He stared at her. "Why would you possibly not tell me now, when it doesn't change anything? Just to annoy me? To--"

"Not everything is about you, Granger. Stop thinking the world--"

"Well, if it's not to annoy me, then it must be because it would matter if I knew. You--" She cocked her head at him. "What else did she tell you, or what did you see? Because you could have afforded the reading, couldn't you? It couldn't have been where the plant was or you wouldn't have even been in Ors--"

" _Or_ , perhaps, it's because it's none of your fucking business. I don't give a shit if your curiosity is sated."

She gave him a look that people who knew her would have known meant she was going to work at it until she figured it out. His was challenging in response.

**3:48pm**

"Where are we going?"

He lowered his head for a moment, before looking over at her like she couldn't be more of an idiot. "To the other end."

"But where after that?" She looked at him like he was an idiot for not knowing that was the question, or trying to ignore that it was. There was only the sound of their walking and the distant call of a bird in his silence. "Just because you decided on this way doesn't mean your word goes on the rest of it. We're in this together. We should--"

"Why don't you ever _shut up_? Do you not realize how much better and tolerable this would all be if you kept your fucking mouth shut?"

"You don't need to curse at me--"

"I don't give a--"

"Do you realize how much better it would be if you stopped being rude?"

"Very few times in my life has my sense of self-preservation been damning, but you are enough to make anyone suicidal." He said this like he was coming upon a revelation, before walking away from her.

"You're the one who makes it harder on yourself! Your self-preservation sucks. Just look at your history for that."

He paused, half-turned back to leave, and then spun around to face her again. "Granger, your self-preservation went the way of a fucking fly - feasted on shit and died young. I made some poor choices, but you didn't see me rushing off into a dozen almost-certain-death situations with my eyes shut and--"

"Because you're a coward!"

"Because I give a fuck about my life? Because I--"

"Because you care more about yourself than everyone else! Because you're not willing to die to save the people you love! Or do you not feel--"

"Don't you think I was almost positive Dumbledore would kill me? I tried to do what I had to do, and you call me a coward for _not_ killing him? For--"

"You could have gone to him earlier! You--"

"And been killed, along with--"

"--off with Death Eaters and kept being one! You--"

"Hardly! What should I have done? Left my family? He would have killed me before I even walked out the door, and then he would have killed them!"

"You could have gone to the Order!"

"The-- If I knew where they were, then _he_ did! And if I had found the ones in hiding, I would have been dead leaving the Manor or walking into wherever this Order was!"

"They wouldn't have killed you! You could have given information, you could have redeemed your--"

" _What_ information? Do you think I knew what the fuck was going on? I would have been with this Order, my parents would have been dead, and--"

"You could--"

"I couldn't do anything! I'm not a fucking martyr! I'm not going to die because it's better than being a part of it! I value my life, no matter how disposable you find it! That doesn't make me a coward - that gave me the 'choice' of doing what little I did, and staying at Hogwarts for most of the war, or being _dead_. I never killed anyone, but I had no choice but to remain where I was. You might have died for the principle, but thank everything I'm not you."

"You--"

"You have no idea what my side of the war was. What it was like to _live_ with him, to have you and your parents under constant threat for the wrong word or the wrong _thought_. Yet you _stand_ there and judge what you don't know, and then call yourself _better_. Know what that sounds like? I'm not Voldemort. I'm not my aunt Bella. I didn't kill your friends. I used to call you a Mudblood - get over it, Granger."

"Get--"

" _I'm_ sorry. All right? Does that help you _at all_?" he asked, with all the air of someone who knew it didn't.

Emotions clogged up the air until it was hard to breathe, and all his words crowded her head until she could hardly think. He walked away and so did she.

**June 9; 8:22am**

Maybe she was blaming Malfoy for more than what he had done. He had been horrible at Hogwarts, but he was like a mosquito - it caused some damage, absolutely annoying, but it didn't matter in the long run compared to everything else. But his actions still had consequences, and he didn't care then what they were, as long as they didn't effect him - he had never cared until they effected him. Perhaps he had paid for that, though. And in a very hard way. He was still punished, she supposed, by her and society.

When would he have paid enough to forgive him for his choices? When his family donated to a hundred charities? When he tried to convince her that Mudblood was just a word? When he gave some half-arsed apology? Or maybe it was when he lowered his wand, or pulled Crabbe away from trying to kill them, or reached over the other side of the wall to pull her over too. It wasn't forgiveness in her chest now, though. It was just an understanding that Malfoy had screwed up, that he might even be sorry for it, and that he was never a face in her nightmare memories. That he wasn't a horrible person, he had been a kid too, and maybe it was enough to not _hate_ him.

She had encountered people in the war who had shown her the true depth of evil that people could reach, and Malfoy was small compared to them - like a child. He had confirmed a lot of what she had already considered and thought over the past few weeks, but it was different to hear it from him. To see the wild look on his face, his anger over her accusations. It made it sink in through the first layer of her skin until she started to _get_ it, his point and his view. She didn't owe it to him to acknowledge that understanding, but she wouldn't be her if she didn't.

She just couldn't understand people who wouldn't fight to break free of following someone like _Voldemort_ , no matter the consequences. Who would just settle for the horrid things around them. She didn't think he should have killed himself to get out of it, but... _something_. There was no way that most of her friends would have stayed trapped there and not tried in every possible way to get out. Maybe that was just her life, though - her side, and the people she knew, and developing friendships in a House like Gryffindor. She couldn't understand why Malfoy didn't do more if he hated it so badly. Maybe he couldn't - she wouldn't ever really know.

She swam out of the cave, the second she had found along the coast, both empty. She hadn't run into any magic, and she hadn't seen Malfoy either. She would have to find him again, though -- there were bigger things going on than the past and old hurt feelings, and they couldn't ignore it. For now, because of what was coming, maybe she would give him a chance. Maybe it would help them not kill each other before something else tried. Just a small one - an opportunity to not look at him through the dirty scope of his past. That was all he was getting from her, though, and she didn't expect to be surprised.

**June 15; 1:12pm**

There were a few scattered houses and two businesses in the place she'd called home for three days, waiting for Malfoy to pass by. She had walked down the coast to the edge of the island, finding herself standing at the top of a large rock overhang, staring down at dozens of people along a pumice stone beach. She had spent fifteen minutes in the closest public loo, gulping down fresh water before she refilled her bottles. She had walked for a day along the rocks, sparse green along white cliffs and a white pumice shore, the only real color being the bright electric blue of the sea stretching on to border the sky. It was an easy place to decide to wait in, though she had been frantic with thoughts that he might be finding the plant without her.

Though their _past-future_ , as she had started calling it, made her think that they had somehow found the plant together, they could have changed that. Staying together once they left the city had probably never happened before, and so neither had the argument that caused them to separate. She was stuck between waiting for him and going out there on her own, but the possibility of what might happen if she didn't stick with him made her stay. For now.

She was contemplating this, and leaving, when she finally caught sight of him for the first time in a week. His hair blended into the rock behind him, but it was the way he was leaning against it, and the blur of dark clothing, that had her eyes flashing back. He was staring at her, arms folded and one ankle crossed over the other, and she couldn't tell his expression from the distance. She tucked the water bottle she had been filling into her bag, clearing her throat. She watched the ground she covered as she walked towards him, taking a deep breath.

She didn't know what he would say, or if he was even there to leave with her. He might want to say something about her sitting around on the beach, or something derogatory from his anger, or maybe make some comment about how she couldn't do it without him. She could never be sure what to expect when it came to him.

"We'll head to the mountains," he rasped, perhaps from disuse.

"All right."

**June 16; 8:19am**

Malfoy had elegant fingers. It was probably the way he had been raised that made him so...oddly graceful, even while he was eating with his fingers. It was the way he held things, she thought. She couldn't help observing him like he was some strange creature in a glass case sometimes, which was why she felt even more wicked amusement when she saw the juice squirt, fly, and shoot him in the eye. She had that moment of casual observation quickly followed by _wait, arching, arching, it's...right for the eye_!

"Fuck!"

Hermione let out a long snort in her attempt to hold the amusement inside. It only took him turning his one-eyed glare her way for her to break into fits of laughter.

**11:11am**

Hermione and Malfoy barely looked at one another when they stepped through the wall simultaneously. Hermione felt goosebumps raise down her arms, but that had more to do with her bad feelings than anything the wall actually did.

"Was it just me, or did it seem like we got to the other end of the island a lot quicker along the coast than when we were walking back to the city?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure. I was too busy enjoying every pleasant moment of it."

"There were a lot more crazy things that happened past that wall. I feel like I'm walking into doom," she confessed.

"Shouldn't that be typical for you? Or are you one of those people who just get the pre-doom _jitters_ every time?"

She shot him a look. "Do you always have to be a prat?" "I'm only a prat because you're such a bitch."

"Ha!"

He gave her a strange look. "You're going to turn into one of those weird, crazy people on the fringe of society who try screwed up experiments on people, randomly proclaim 'ha!', and mutter to yourself."

"Well, you're going to turn into that brooding beast in Beauty and the Beast, except _Pansy_ will be the _beauty_ , and you'll never turn into a prince."

He was silence for three steps. " _What_?"

"It's a-"

"Never mind. I'm closer to caring about the safety of germs than the workings of your deranged mind."

"Then you shouldn't have asked." She glared.  
"A person is entitled to change their mind."  
She looked at him for a long moment and then at the steps of her feet. "Yes."

**June 17; 3:42pm**

She had tried to _inconspicuously_ go relieve her, slowly falling behind Malfoy before turning into the trees, but she hadn't been very sly with it. He had stopped, turned, and stared at her as she sent him a look from the corner of her eye that might have made her appear like a hunted animal. He probably thought she had seen something and was trying to play it off, and it took her a minute to convince herself that he wasn't coming and it was safe to pull her trousers down. She had made sure to go far enough in that he wouldn't hear her.

It was on her way back to where she had left him that she saw an unfamiliar flower, as bright blue as the sea, with two large petals and seven smaller ones. She bent down to touch the feathery petals, reaching for the stem so she could bring it closer to her. It was in the same second that she heard the tiny click of the stem breaking from the ground that restraint left her bones, an airy sensation filling up under her skin. She fell forward, despite trying to jerk herself back, her forehead hitting the ground, her face sliding in dirt. Her legs crumpled, her bag thunked, her arms swung forward, and she just... _deflated_. Like a discarded mannequin collapsing against a hard surface.

Hermione stared at the patch of ground in front of her; the blades of grass, the tiny pebbles in the dirt, and the wind picking up a lock of her hair. She tried to stand, to move her arm, her finger, to blink, and nothing happened. She tried to close her eyes in concentration but failed, focusing everything she had to move. Something must have hit her, or it had been the flower - plucking the flower must have triggered some sort of magical reaction that left her _completely paralyzed_.

She still had her heartbeat, though - she could feel it racing in her chest, and her breath was hot through the fabric over her shoulder. At least it hadn't killed her. She still needed to figure out how to break out of it. If it had something to do with the flower, then maybe the flower could heal her - except she couldn't even see the flower now. She could feel it against the skin of her palm, so perhaps it had to stop touching her, or she had to move out of the area. There had to be _something_. She could not live like this. She would _die_ like this.

"Granger!" She never thought _Malfoy_ , followed by a _thank God_ , would combine in her head. "Granger, stop fucking around. I just saw you run by."

Hermione would have opened her eyes wide in surprise and alarm if she could. There was no possible way Malfoy could have seen her run by since she was _here and motionless_. She remembered the Malfoy clone, the first bit of magic she had run into after the barrier. But if he saw 'her', and 'she' was running, messing around with him, and not pretending to be dead, they had a much bigger problem than dragging a magical sack through the woods.

She was struggling against the magic as hard as she could, but nothing was happening. Not even a flutter to her eyelashes or a spasm of muscle movement. She was hitting panic, and it spiked when she heard running. A hand closed over her shoulder, yanking her onto her back, and she saw fear in Malfoy's eyes.

"Oh, _shit_ ," he breathed, and she saw the expanse of his neck, a flash of his face, and then the top of his head bobbing at the bottom of her vision. "You better not be dead, Granger. You're dead. I'm going to fucking... This is not my life."

His fingers closed around her wrist as he muttered quickly to himself, shoving his fingers into her skin as he looked for her pulse. His hair brushed her face, feather soft, making her need to sneeze but not able to. His head jerked up, his eyes finding hers, and she could feel his pulse against hers at her wrist.

"The magic? Were you running before? If this is a joke, Granger, I'm going to string you up on that fucking tree and let the bears eat you. Or that big animal we heard. Grang--" He cut off on a string of curses, pulling out of her eyesight.

All she could hear was his quick breathing as she tried to move again, and then his fingers closed around her other wrist - the one with the flower still in her hand. His touch surprised her, his fingers gentle, pads skimming across the sensitive skin of the underside. It was like a rough touch might make the flower touch his own skin. She heard him drag her bag up quickly, things clunking together, his hand guiding hers towards it. He paused, even holding his breath, and then released a harsh sound of letters before shaking her hand. He was trying to get the flower to slide off without touching it himself, she thought, and waited anxiously for it to come off in the hopes that that was all it would take.

"Fuck, just put the flower in the bag!" he growled.

Hermione felt her hand lift, slide down, and release the flower with absolutely no permission from anywhere in her mind. Malfoy's fingers slid across her skin and she could feel them curve in, his face appearing at the edge of her vision. He looked at her with equal wonder and suspicion while she was wondering _what was wrong with her_. Had Malfoy just...just _commanded_ her body? It was as if it had its own separate mind as it moved, like in films where the monster loses its head and the body goes around to find it. That's what she felt like! Like a headless monster body! She couldn't make herself move at all, like something else had the controls, and she was left-- Malfoy's head whipped around and she saw his jaw drop.

"You have to get up now! Get up, get--" He jumped away from her when she sailed to her feet, getting to his own just as quickly, his eyes wide on hers. " _Run_ ," he breathed, and she did, right away with no thought. "Other way. _Other_.”

He was making a lot of hard sounds and grunts that weren't likely to be anything she wanted to hear, his hand grabbing her wrist again and yanking her to a stop. Her arm strained in pain from having her run cut short like that, but no sound came from her mouth, and she didn't pull away from him, but _continued_ to run. He pulled her in the direction he wanted them to go, his fingers clamped around her bones as they ran.

She didn't know what they were running from, but she knew the fear on Malfoy's face, so she didn't question it yet. Not that she had a choice anyway, but it had to have been something. Her bag was bouncing, unsecured by her arm, and she didn't know if anything was falling out. Branches and leaves hit her in the face and on her body, stinging against her skin, but she couldn't move to push them out of her path. From the position of her eyes, she could see some of them hitting Malfoy in the face as well, him only having one hand to move them when his other was secured around her wrist. At least he was getting _some_ of them. He was running too fast as well, though she would have thought his knee would slow him down, but she didn't think the adrenaline was allowing him to feel much pain. He kept tugging her forward until she felt like she was going to fall on her face at any second.

She could only run like Malfoy told her to, her brain disconnected, no longer the ruler. She felt like she was trapped in someone else's body, the body she knew her whole life no longer hers and foreign. She felt like the other in a schizophrenic. Even worse because Malfoy -- _Malfoy_ had complete control over her.

**5:22pm**

"You will call me God."

By the time Malfoy had stopped running, yelling for her to do so, she was sure she had sprained at least five different things. Her calves were burning like they caught fire ten minutes ago, and her lungs were hot, heavy, and tight as she sucked in air. Sweat was pouring down her skin, sticking her clothes to her, but she couldn't do anything. She could only stand there and stare at Malfoy a meter in front of her as he leaned back, worked out a cramp, and wiped his face.

Hermione wanted desperately to do a lot of things in that moment, but most of all, she wanted to slap Malfoy upside the head.

"What's my name?"

She tried to stop it, she really did. "God."

He smirked, nodding his head to the banana tree to his right. "Climb that tree...plant. Whatever you want to call it."

She tried, jumping onto the pole and wrapping her legs around it, trying to shimmy-climb her way up using her knees and hands. Her jeans slid noisily over the leaves, her thighs protesting a motion she couldn't stop. She didn't get further than a few millimeters.

"All right." She still didn't stop trying, though if she ever got out of this, she was going to break this tree down with her bare hands and slam it over his head. "Stop."

She stopped immediately, releasing everything and hitting the ground on her bum. This was so humiliating, and she could feel the anger shaking in her chest as he laughed. She would have never done this to him. Well...all right, she might have, but not unless she had figured out the cure first. It was just cruel to do this and not care how to save her. The horrifying possibility of him trying to keep her like this made her want to cry, scream, and do a lot of violent things. She could take a lot in her life - she was a strong woman, she liked to think, but _she could not do this_.

"I didn't mean it like that, Granger. Since you couldn't climb, I guess the magic doesn't overcome your natural handicaps, which is useless." He stared at her. "Stand. Say, 'I'm sorry for being a judgmental, hypocritical, broomstick up my arse, grating bitch."

He was going to pay for this. Slowly. "I'm sorry for being a judgmental, hypocritical, broomstick up my arse, grating bitch." Her voice left her in a dead monotone, but it still made him grin.

"This is the most fun I've had since... So - Slave Granger or Bitch Granger. Choices, choices." He went over to pick up the bag, though she was surprised he didn't make her. "Maybe I should sleep first. Get some rest before I have to be tortured by the squeal that comes with your outrage."

He looked down in the bag, narrowing his eyes as he looked at something. She tried to catalogue everything she had in there to make sure he wouldn't find something that she didn't want him to, but she thought she was pretty much in the clear. The worst that he could find was the map, but that wouldn't do anything for him now. He looked up at her, walking forward as he held out the bag.

"Get the flower, Granger. For the record, besides the run, it's only been two minutes. I haven't made you do anything very humiliating, so remember that when you reach an inhuman pitch, because I will be trying to tune you out. Also, don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same. What's my name?"

"God." She was fuming, but her touch was gentle on the flower. "I'll miss this, Granger. Eat the flower."

She collapsed to her knees the second she swallowed, her hand darting _out_ _by her own permission_ to try breaking her fall. Her head snapped up as she looked at Malfoy, that _stupid smirk_ still on his face. She pushed herself up to her feet, looking around her.

"Nothing to say?"

"Ever heard of rounders, Malfoy? You stand there, and I'll get the rocks and stick."

He had to tackle her to stop them from flying at him, two hits to the shoulder being enough revenge as he wrestled the stick from her grasp. She tried smacking his forehead and twisting him off of her, but he was completely pressed against her. She could feel his stomach expanding into hers every time he breathed, which was far too close when it came to him...or _anyone_ , really. They both yelled and grunted before he rolled off of her, bark sticking to both their palms, and got to his feet. He pointed the stick at her, his lips in a white line and his Angry Vein, as she had dubbed it, popped out in his temple.

"Even?" he growled.

"For now, ferret boy."

**June 18; 7:35am**

"Did you see someone?" Hermione asked, watching Malfoy stare somewhere over her head. "I heard you say that you saw me."

"I just saw a figure, human. I couldn't make out any details."

"It must have been an illusion or something. Something to do with the flower. Just an illusion."

Nothing she said would make him stop looking around them.

**12:32pm**

They found a river a half hour ago, both of them immediately deciding to follow it until they reached the place where they would have to cut across towards the mountains. They had been trying to catch fish for twenty minutes now, both of them unsuccessful - she wasn't a very good fisher and Malfoy was too busy jerking his head towards something every thirty seconds.

Hermione shook her head at the little blue fish that was far too small to even bother eating, her eyes darting to a flash of silver. A fat, silver fish was staring at her leg with its _beady, black eyes_ , before twisting its fat stomach towards her. Hermione's eyes shot open wide for a second before narrowing to slits.

"Aha!" she yelled, Malfoy jumping hard enough for his arm to splash down into the water.

Hermione stabbed her spear at it, knowing they were too far inland for it to be the same river, but somehow sure that _this little fish_ had _stalked_ her just to rub its meaty self in her shame face again. There was no wiggling on the other end of her stick, and she almost thought she'd imagined it until she saw him again on the other side of her.

She glanced up at Malfoy with the determined death glare she had been eying the fish with as he stared at her like she had lost it. "Human experiments," he mumbled.

**June 20; 4:29pm**

Malfoy grabbed her elbow, pulling her to a stop. Her heart pounded as she looked back at him, his body frozen in place with his head cocked, angry eyes slanted towards the woods at their left.

"What?"

They hadn't run into any food sources for days and their supplies were running low. They had to be careful with how much they ate and how often, which was putting them both on edge. Not many people were happy when they were hungry, and add everything else to it, and it made for some interesting, tense silences. It didn't help that Malfoy's paranoia had been building since the incident with the flower. Last night she had woken up to him standing a meter away from her, the dagger pulled at his side as he stared into the woods. She didn't know if she should feed him or tie him up.

"Nothing."

**June 21; 10:19am**

A part of her wanted to stay at the riverbank and wait for her clothes to dry there, if only to escape Malfoy. She was more worried about leaving him alone too long, though, so she made her way back, and if she took her time about it, no one had to know. He was really starting to freak her out.

He was eating a banana when she made it back to the area they had slept in last night. He was staring up at her through his fringe, his cheek bunched out from the food, and his grip no longer elegant. He looked her over, and she checked to make sure nothing was showing, though she had folded the sheet twice and looked down at herself in the sun. If anything was, she was sure he would be humiliating her right now, and probably pretending to burn his eyes out or something.

"You're starting to look--" _ragged, like a freak, like a psychopath, strange, rundown, creepy_.

"I think something is following us." Her heart pounded at the way he said it, his eyes darting to the trees before going back to hers again.

**6:38pm**

Malfoy was in the trees. She hadn't even known where he was until her paranoia, helped by him, made her look up. He was standing on one branch, holding onto the one above his head with his head locked and his shirt pulling up. His arms and hair were hidden in the leaves, and she wasn't sure she would have even spotted him, had it not been for the bottom of his face and the patch of his stomach. He shifted and she saw something glint through the leaves - his dagger was pulled.

"Malfoy?" He didn't look at her. "Listen up, Malfoy. You can go mental on your own time, but I am not going to have you stab me to death because your paranoia drives you insane! If we were being followed, they would have attacked by now, or I would have at least seen or heard them. So...so-- Get down from that tree!"

She thought he was glaring at her but she couldn't be sure. If he fell from that height, he would break his neck and be dead. "You'll thank me when we're not dead," he snapped. "And I have to check where we should cross over towards the mountains."

Hermione looked up at him, shut her mouth, shook her head, and huffed as she stalked away.

**June 22; 9:08am**

"Inventory - two bananas, a handful of trail mix. You?"

"An apple."

That explained why his robe didn't have anything in it. Hermione pulled the second banana out of her bag and offered it to him. He looked at it for a moment before shaking his head. Maybe they weren't supposed to eat until they were starving, though Hermione was pretty sure she started on that two hours ago. She would regret it if she felt starved for _days_ , though, so she pushed both of them back into her bag. Malfoy hadn't eaten anything since before her - in fact, she hadn't seen him eat anything since yesterday.

He wasn't shaving, either. She had seen him with a few days worth of growth before, but he would always appear with a clean face one morning before it got too out of hand. He was letting it go now, and the longer it got, the more creepy he became. It was odd enough to see him with a beard when she was used to him being clean-shaven or with some scruff, but it just helped him look more ragged now.

Were there signs for people losing their mind? There must have been, though she couldn't be sure what they were. She didn't know if not eating happened to be one of them, but Malfoy had to have at least three now. _At least_ _._

**7:57pm**

She had her trousers around her ankles, a hand pressed against the bark of the tree, while the other was pulling her jeans as far out as the material allowed. She was halfway through emptying her bladder, _finally_ , when she heard a twig snap. She paused, staring at the bark, before looking around the tree to see if anyone was there.

She squeaked at the sight of Malfoy's shirt through the trees, doing a rather unattractive wiggle as she grabbed the very last of the toilet paper she had. "I'm peeing!"

He stopped, and she could tell from his arm that she had broken through his _insanity_ enough for him to turn around. "We have to leave."

"Ar-- You-- _Why_?"

He wasn't moving _away_ , which he should have been, though he shouldn't have even come out near her in the first place. There was no way that she was going to be able to finish her much-needed pee when he was _standing_ there. He might not be able to see her - and she really hoped he hadn't seen anything - but he could still _hear_ her.

"It's just time to go."

She tried to rip the toilet paper off as quietly as possible. Sure, the bathrooms had been shared at Hogwarts, but there were stalls and only girls. Here she was with her bum bare to the world, halfway through a pee, with Malfoy standing two meters away. _God_ , what had her life come to?

"We just got here. I thought we were going to--"

"Change of plans. Hurry up."

**June 23; 11:12am**

Malfoy was in his normal, paranoid gait, head swinging back and forth as he looked around, when he suddenly flung himself to the right and into a run. Hermione took off after him after a moment of surprise, not knowing if he was running because he saw someone, something dealing with Floralis, or he was having delusions. She _knew_ he was a psycho _weeks_ ago when he was _breathing_ over her.

She was falling behind because he was going so fast, vaulting large rocks and fallen trees, ducking under branches and starting to disappear on her. She pulled the quill out of her pocket just in case she had to help defend them or restrain him. She tried to jump over the trunk that he had, but her legs were much shorter and her foot landed on top instead. She almost kept balance but then she fell, hitting her knees. She cursed him, shoving up, and had to listen for the sound of his clothes rubbing and the _ch-wha, chch-wuh_ of him flying through the leaves.

She followed after it, spotting his back for three seconds before he fell. "Malfoy?"

She skirted around the trees until she was standing behind him, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Though she didn't know why they had just taken off, at least it warmed her up from the oddly cold day. He was kneeling on the ground in a hunch with his arms under him, moving slightly in a side-to-side rock. She began to call his name again, keeping a distance in case he was freaking out, when his elbow jerked out to the side and blood followed it. Hermione screamed and jumped back on instinct, and Malfoy looked back at her, panting, blood on the blade and his hand. Did he just stab himself? Sliced himself?

"What did you do?" she screeched, her hand caught between reaching out to him and leading her _far_ away.

"Do you want to eat?"

"Not you!" she cried, her indecisive hand now waving frantically in the space between them. "Let me see it. Put down the dagger!"

He sniffed, his skin looking grey and his hand trembling. His lack of sleep was showing in the heaviness of his blue-tinged eyelids, the tiny red veins that were showing on them, and his bloodshot eyes. He looked her up and down in a way that made her want to step back again, to maybe go barbarian on his cannibalistic head. He looked down in front of him and got to his feet, stepping aside. Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth when she saw that he hadn't gone suicidal on her but had just killed a rabbit. It must have been what he was chasing through the forest, blood spreading out below it.

"Start a fire."

**12:45pm**

Hermione dug a hole in a patch of soft earth, burying the rabbit fur while Malfoy watched her in a predatory way, making her seriously question her safety around him. She couldn't leave him behind no matter how much she wanted to, so she didn't know if they should work their way back to the city or if she should tie him to a tree until he gained back a stable mind.


	15. Part Fifteen

**June 24; 9:21am**

She watched Malfoy fishing through the trees, keeping her distance. While he had become paranoid of everything around them, it had become him Hermione started to watch carefully. She was afraid to sleep even meters away in case he got it into his head that she was the enemy or something. He would try to hunt her down like the rabbit, tackle her to the ground, and maybe he would slice her throat as well.

She was on guard for anything that would lead to the plant, for any magic that might try to kill her again, and now against Malfoy - against him more now than she had been in the beginning. She felt like she was losing her mind a little too. All the watching and careful movements, trying to watch him without making him think she had turned on him, was shaking her up. Some days she felt like a survivor, and other days she didn't even want to see a picture of the Islands again. She had to snap him out of it but she didn't know how. As long as he stopped thinking that something was following them, he should calm down, but short of caking herself in mud and pretending to be a dead monster, she had no plan.

She didn't think he had seen her through the trees but he looked up and directly at her. They stared at one another for a moment, Hermione planning a strategic slow back-away, when he held up a speared fish and started to walk out of the water.

**June 25; 3:21am**

She opened her groggy eyes for just a second to make sure Malfoy was far away from her, shooting up with a gasp when she saw a pair of legs on the other side of the dying fire. Malfoy was less than a meter away from her, his face tight as he stared at her, poking the fire back to life. She took a deep breath at the caveman in front of her, releasing it slowly when he still didn't move away. The night was cold so he might have been trying to warm up, or he was getting a _burning stick to set her on fire_.

Hermione folded her legs, wiping her eyes and ignoring her heavy head, before she focused on him. Orange and shadows danced across his face, outlining harsher edges, and she made sure not to take her eyes off him. He didn't look at her again.

**8:18am**

"No one is following us! If they-- You know what! You know what, I'm going to go out there and come back tomorrow. And when I'm defenseless and on my own, and no one attacks, we'll know that no one is there! Okay?"

Hermione dropped her emphasizing arms to her sides and began to walk away, but he grabbed her arm to stop her. "You're not going--"

"You're not telling me what I can do! I--" She tried to pull her arm from his grip, but it was clamped.

"Since it's my _life_ that depends on _yours_ , yes _,_ _I can_. We already discussed my self-preservation--"

"And my 'rushing off into certain--'"

"I'll only follow."

She stared at him with too many things bursting in her chest, throwing her hands up and shaking them by his cheeks as she growled. He didn't even raise an eyebrow. She narrowed her eyes and swung her hand, slapping him. He flinched, so she pulled back to repeat it, but he caught it, twisting her arm down. She only swung her other hand, slapping him once, again, three times.

"Snap. Out. Of. It!" she yelled. "This is the most you've spoken in days. I keep thinking you're going to stab me to death, or go _completely off the edge_. You are _freaking me out_ , Malfoy! You are not a monkey, or some jungle warrior, or--"

He finally managed to grab her other arm, twisting them both back around her back as she stumbled towards him to loosen the pull. Which wasn't pleasant at all, considering how he hadn't bothered to _bathe_ during all that staying awake. His face was two inches in front of hers, his eyes like bullets in his anger.

"I will tie you up and drag you through--" He cut himself off, jerking his head up so fast that his chin almost clipped her nose.

She looked up too, Malfoy's hands falling away from her arms as one of the large birds cried out above their heads. There were five of them circling; they were as long as her torso and half as wide, not including the stretch of their wingspan. She could see the length of their talons even in the distance, and she sent a panicked look to Malfoy as he pulled his dagger.

"Ever see birds do that?" she whispered, like the sound would send them down.

"No."

"Do you think it's an illusion like before, and they're really just butterflies?" She might have sounded a little pleading.

"Just stand there and maybe you'll--"

One of the birds dived straight down, throwing its wings back as it plummeted straight for them. Hermione knew it wasn't about to fall to its death, but that it was in attack mode, and pulled her quill as the other four birds began to drop as well. Malfoy hit the first one right in the gut, and she had just enough time to see the blood rush out when the second was right over her head. She stabbed the quill up, sinking it into something, and the bird cried out when she did as it sunk its talons into her arm. She swung her arm down on instinct, the claws ripping through her skin, and batted it to the ground. She didn't know if it was an illusion or not, but _this pain_ she felt without question.

It snapped its beak into her leg and she hopped, slamming her foot down on top of it. Her stomach turned at the crunch and squelch under her trainers, her heart rocketing into her throat, but there wasn't any time to care. She had to duck to keep the second bird from ripping out her throat, blindly stabbing the quill out but not hitting anything. She felt something hard clamp around the side of her hand, the bones cracking as she pulled it back, slamming the fist of her other hand into the side of the bird. It cried out loudly as she felt something hard snap under her knuckles, and she swung the quill forward, sinking it into the bird's chest. It _caw_ _ed_ loudly, talons digging lines into her skin as it flew away from her.

Hermione hissed out a breath at the pain cramping and burning in her hand and arm, watching the bird arch as it flew back to her. Her vision was foggy with adrenaline, and she wasn't even sure if she was breathing, pulling her hand back as the bird soared towards her. She stabbed the quill forward into its shoulder, rearing back as the talons flashed by her face, and then it stopped. Her breath came out in a whimper as she looked at the animal hovering in front of her, the tip of a dagger just two inches from her mouth. Malfoy slashed down violently, sending the twitching bird to the ground at her feet. He might have almost stabbed her in the mouth, but he might have saved her, too.

Hermione jumped back, looking up at the sky and around her, before finding five dead birds on the ground. Blood ran and pooled in the dirt, one bird broken and the rest stabbed to death. It was a graveyard of birds as she cradled her arm to her chest, little sounds of hurt escaping her throat, the blood soaking through her shirt and pain roaring. She felt dizzy and blurred, her head spinning as she focused her eyes on Malfoy in front of her.

It was the shock on his face and the barely recognizable way in which his body was rocking circles that snapped her out of her own daze. Malfoy's arm was covered in blood, and a patch of black was spreading on his ripped shoulder. He was losing a good amount of blood and he hadn't slept or eaten much in days.

Hermione moved forward, grabbing his less injured arm with her blood-clean hand, and pulled him through the trees. He followed, silent, his expression still dazed as she led him to the riverbank. She guided them both in until they were up to their thighs in water, as deep as it went. They were both hissing from the water against their wounds, the current gentle but still pressure. She released his arm, backing up from him a step as he stared pale-faced at the sky.

"Sink down a little, Malfoy. You have to wash it off your shoulder as well, make sure it's clean."

She moved her arm back and forth softly, looking down through the water and moving it away from the blood that blossomed up. There were three fairly deep marks across her arm and six shallow grooves. The three were deep enough that it made her stomach twist to look at them, spotting tissue, and the small chunk missing from the side of her hand was just as bad. She was almost positive that the two far knuckles on her right hand were broken, already black and swollen.

She was more concerned with Malfoy - he had taken the brunt of the attack and it showed. There were at least six deep grooves in his right arm, a few shallow ones that had just barely sunk into the skin, a puncture wound, and a small chunk of flesh missing on his hand. She didn't know what his shoulder looked like, glancing up to tell him her plan when she found him focused. The dazed look was gone and the shock was fading, and his gaze was intense on the water. She looked down and felt something cold settle in her stomach, though she wasn't sure what it was - their blood was mixing. Tangling in the space between them and then around them as the river carried it slowly downstream.

Malfoy was staring at it like he was waiting for an explosion to come out of the two mixing together. She looked at him, expecting revulsion, but he just kept staring, blank-faced and riveted. She hesitated on saying anything and then moved back to the bank, climbing out of the water. She grabbed her cloak out of her bag, still damp from when she had washed it earlier, switching the quill to her other hand as she tried to cut and tear strips of fabric with her left. Her arm was burning and felt like the tissue was trying to squeeze the bones into a fine dust. The water mixing with the blood had made it look like she were being drained of it. She threw one end of the cloak over her hand, right below her knuckles, and wrapped it tightly to the middle of her forearm, her face scrunched from the pain. She wrapped it back upwards again until the ends were near each other, turning her arm up on her knee and using her hand and teeth to knot it.

Malfoy was still in the river when she looked over at him, his expression pained as he pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, down his injured arm. His shoulder had two punctures in it, running rivulets of blood down his chest, but she had thought it would look a lot worse - had pictured exposed bones and flapping skin. They were both lucky they weren't missing huge chunks of their arms with how easily those talons had sliced into them. If Malfoy hadn't had the dagger...

She walked back to the river, holding up two long strips of her cloak. She only had a small patch left now, just part of the shoulders and the brooch. Malfoy stared at her for a moment, looking down at his shirt, and then moved towards her. She could feel the pulses of blood in her arm, the fabric getting wet with it, but at least it would stop the flow. He took the strips from her hand, glancing at the wrap job she had done on her own.

"I can help if..."

"I got it."

He looked at her when she kept staring, raising his eyebrow, and she looked around in confusion before walking away from him. He probably didn't want her to watch him struggle with putting it on or something. He was weird like that, but she was in pain and didn't care right now. As least there was a hint of sanity back in his eyes. Perhaps the attack had startled him into reality, though she had no idea why they were attacked. She didn't know if they were eagles or falcons, having never studied the different species of birds, but at this point, she only cared that they were dead. Maybe they had been hungry, or perhaps it was the magic, but she was too injured - and had come too close to getting her neck torn open - to bury them like she had the rabbit fur.

"It's going to rain."

She jumped at his voice behind her, turning away from the birds to look at him. He had wrapped his arm like she had hers, and she could see the other strip wrapped around his shoulder under the small tear in his shirt. She couldn't help but stare at the knots to make sure they were tight enough.

"Yeah, I smell it, too. Listen, Malfoy... What?" He looked like he was going to be sick.

"Every time you say something _serious_ that I really don't give a shit about, you always start it with _listen, Malfoy_."

"That's not true."

"Fine, most of the time."

"That doesn't matter," she rushed out, because telling him it didn't matter also didn't matter enough to take her time with it. "You have to snap out of it--"

"I'm fine."

"You're scaring me," she confessed, and he looked at her finally. "You need to grab reality. If you lose it-"

"I'm not going insane," he snapped. "The birds had been following us. They are birds of prey - they must have waited until they thought we were most vulnerable."

He looked at her as if he was daring her to say otherwise. She thought of telling him that he most certainly had gone crazy and that she wasn't fully convinced the birds had snapped him out of it. She thought it was better to tell him it was the birds, though, and since they were dead, there was nothing else to worry about. It might have been enough to keep him grounded before he stabbed her in her sleep or something. She had been afraid she would wake up tomorrow to find him naked and feasting on some dead, raw animal.

"You're right." That had to scrape its hard edges out of her throat. "At least they're dead now and we can know that nothing is following us anymore."

It was starting to rain, fat drops falling on their heads. Malfoy nodded, his jaw clenching again, and then again as he looked down at the birds. "Do you want to bury those too?"

He looked condescending so she glared at him. "No." "Can we eat them?"  
"I...don't know."

He flashed her a look from the corner of his eye. "Well, shit - somebody mark the date."

**11:39am**

Hermione held her arm to her chest and sped up until she reached the little shack at the same time as Malfoy. The wood was worn but the walls and bamboo roof were intact. They walked slowly around the corner of the structure, peeking into the window at the side to find the place empty. About four by four meters of blank space - there wasn't even flooring or glass in the windows.

"Are you going in?"

He didn't respond, but walking away was answer enough.

**12:00pm**

As far as progress went, they weren't making much. She didn't think they had walked more than two miles all day. Malfoy was the sort of exhausted where she had to stop herself from laughing at him when he bounced off a tree. The bird attack had been draining, they had lost a good amount of blood, and it kept raining lightly off and on. The day was cold and miserable, and they were hungry to boot.

"What are you doing?" She glanced over him, back now from his loo break.

"I'm trying to catch them with the bucket."

It wasn't an easy task - she couldn't go too deep in the water, and she had to do it quickly with her left arm. Every time she almost caught one, she would yank up the full bucket with a slippery, weak grip, and it dropped more times than not. Her hunger pushed her on, but it wasn't working very well.

"You think that's going to work?"

"Maybe."

Malfoy waded in to his knees, his trousers rolled up, and his injured arm cradled to his chest like hers was. Putting it down made the blood pound harder and increased the pain, too much movement causing it to bleed again. His knee was almost completely healed, just a few small patches that looked pink, but he was definitely scarring.

"I wonder who made soap," she said, and he looked at her like _she_ had the jungle madness. "What person took the lard out of a dead animal and said, 'Oh, I'll wash with this'. Who could have thought that was a good idea?"

"The Wonders of Life by Hermione Granger," he deadpanned.

**3:12pm**

Malfoy flung the door open to the small shack they had run back to, the rain falling in sheets as lightning cracked close enough to blind them in white for a moment. The injured noises were coming from deep in her chest through her heavy breathing as she slammed the door shut behind her, her arm pounding and burning.

Malfoy yelled something, but it was lost under the hard roll of thunder as she leaned against the door, closing her eyes and waiting for the pain to settle. She dropped her bag to the floor, shaking in the wet cold, and feeling very much like an injured, drowned cat. The wind was blowing hard through the open windows, making her shake with the cold, and the tiny house was creaking like it was about to fly away around them.

"We might be able to kick out part of this wood and make a fire."

She opened her eyes, seeing him pressing a hand against the wall, testing the strength. "We can't take a wall out of someone's...house, or property, whatever it is. And we can't light a fire in their house either."

"Have you been in the woods so long that you take the earth as normal flooring? This place is falling apart and it's empty - no one lives here. The windows are open so the smoke will go out, and it won't be so cold."

"Someone owns this, Malfoy. I'm not going to kick a hole in the wall unless we would freeze to death, and that's not going to happen. Besides, the other side of the wood will be wet anyway. The fire will go out in a minute."

He rolled his neck, tiny cracks sounding out under the rain beating the roof. He pulled his robe out from under his shirt, mostly dry from the hunch he had been running in to keep it that way. He slid down the wall until his bum hit the ground, and she could tell just by looking at him that he was ready to pass out three days ago. When he had given up on them eating today, and she had still been trying to bucket fish, she had caught him leaning against a tree and sleeping while standing. When the downpour hit a few minutes later, they hadn't even discussed it before they both took off in the direction of the shack they had found earlier. Running to shelter was a lot better than sitting in a storm.

"Don't think I'm cuddling to keep you warm."

"I would rather freeze," she chattered, trying to stop her teeth from clinking together with her shaking as she moved to sit by the wall.

She was less than a meter from Malfoy, which was far closer than they had ever slept by one another. She was too much of everything to really care, though, bringing her bag between her legs. She needed to get warm, and hopefully when she woke up, the storm would have passed and everything would be better.

She was just opening her bag when something warm and heavy hit her, falling over her head. "Since you used your cloak on my arm and shoulder. And my leg."

She pulled the fabric from her head, warm from his body heat, and caught the scent of earth, bananas, and something else. It was his scent, whatever strange thing that happened to be, and she was thrown for a moment by its proximity to her face. The natural scent of someone else was reserved for close hugs and sleeping in the person's bed - not anything with Malfoy.

"I don't call evens, Ma--"

"I was hoping you wouldn't say anything so I can finally _sleep_."

"I have--"

"Gran--"

"Aren't you cold? Contrary to popular belief, I've found you're not coldblooded."

"Go to sleep, Granger." His voice sounded like it was coming through fog, thick and groggy.

"I can't take this if you're cold, and besides, I ha-- _Ow_! You nearly ripped off my finger!"

"Unless you want it to be your tongue, I suggest--"

"I was just going to tell you that I have the sheets, so I can use those," she snapped, but it didn't come out that strongly when she had shoved her injured finger into her mouth.

"Fine," he muttered, throwing the robe over himself.

"We should unwrap the bandages before we fall asleep. Let the wounds air out, and if they start healing up, we won't have anything sticking to the cloth when we unwrap it later." He didn't move. "Malf--"

He opened his eyes, sitting up from the wall with a rush of angry sounds as he untied the knots on his bandages. Hermione gave him a long-suffering look while she undid hers, carefully unwrapping it from her arm. She winced, the cloth already sticking in some places where the blood had dried, and shoved the strip into her bag before pulling out the sheets. It wasn't much use when she was already wet, but she wasn't about to chuck off her soaked clothes with Malfoy sitting over there.

"Thank you. For the robe." She didn't know if he was already asleep or just pretending to be so she wouldn't talk anymore, but at least she had said it.

**June 26; 5:28am**

Malfoy wasn't in the hut when she woke up, but his robe was there and so were his bandages. Her arm was a constant ache throughout the night, and she hadn't got much sleep between that and the cold. The storm had finally stopped sometime in the night - she had only been aware that it was dark - and when the wind slowed down and the world started to warm, she fell into a hard sleep. She didn't feel refreshed, though, just tired and sore, like someone might have tried to rearrange her body parts in the night and now they were stitched back together and strange. She felt like she had slept in the river, but her clothes were dry and stiff.

She groaned at the sight of the yellow gook building in her cuts, the small curve in the side of her hand from where the talon had torn out a tiny chunk, and the black, swollen mess of her two broken knuckles. She would make poultices for them later with the herbs in her bag, but they would have to wait for the sun to dry up some of the wood. The mosquitoes were out in full force, as bad as they had been on Vulcano, and she cursed the rain as she swatted them away from her.

She stood to go out to the river, her knees cracking when she got to her feet, and paused in front of the door. She really hoped Malfoy wasn't bathing out there or something. They should work out some sort of sign for that - maybe hanging a sock some place. She figured he would have gone further down the river, but she still opened the door very slowly, giving him some time to see it through the dimness of early morning, and yell for her to wait.

He was squatting down on the riverbank when she spotted him, washing the dagger off in the water before raising it to his face again. She watched the slow, even stroke of the blade across his jawline, coming away with hair and soap lather. She took the shaving as a sign that he might be returning to normal, and she was very glad she might never again have to wake up to a full-bearded Malfoy staring at her with sharp grey eyes over too little distance.

**June 27; 3:20pm**

"Malfoy...I could hug you."

"Resist."

She could feel her mouth water as she stared at the two pieces of fish meat in his palm. One was barely anything at all, but the other reminded her of her silver fish nemesis. She almost asked him what color it had been, but she knew he would probably give her a sarcastic response followed by an insult instead of a real answer, anyway. Malfoy was like a castle when it came to sharing information - explosives _might_ work, but she had to scale walls, dig trenches, fight off monsters, and battle the dragon himself before she could even break a hole.

Sometimes she liked to hint or mention the very basics of something important and interesting - be it real or not - just to watch him attempt to stare holes into her skull and read her brain. Other times she would just smile knowingly at something and shake her head when he finally caved with an annoyed _what_ , or glare at him when he completely ignored her plans of revenge.

She laid the patches from one of the sheets out on her lap, ignoring the blood stains that insisted on tinging her shirt orange, and poked at her herbal concoction of thyme, witch's herb, rosemary, and chestnut leaves. "I think this is ready. You cook the fish and I'll make the poultices."

He nodded at her as she grabbed the bucket, almost laughing at herself for her excitement. A little bit of fish after she hadn't eaten in two days felt like a feast and a hot shower right then. She really could have hugged him - almost.

**July 1; 1:22pm**

"We'll have to start towards the mountains tomorrow. You might want to consider emptying the water to the clearing in your other bottle and filling it before we go so I don't have to listen to you cough hairballs after a few days."

"I think I just found some food," she called to his shrinking back, and she heard him stop before his footsteps grew closer.

She stuffed the thyme in her bag before pulling one of the large, olive green berries from the shrub next to her. "I'm not sure if they're edible."

"They're caper berries." He reached out to pick one of them off before biting into it.

"How does it taste?"

"Edible."

"Very helpful, thank you." It _was_ helpful to know they were edible, but he could have given her a warning about the taste. She supposed starving people couldn't be that choosy, though, and they weren't bad.

She pulled out one of the empty trail mix bags, careful not to hit her broken knuckles against anything, and started to drop the berries in it. "I think we should fill the bucket up and take turns carrying it."

"Instead of just dumping the poisoned water? W--"

"I want to save it for testing." If it got bad enough, then she would fill it up, but they should run into something before they got through two bottles and a bucket. She hoped.

"You won't be able to test it when you're dead."

"Can you stop being so negative all the time?" she asked, exasperated.

He stared at her, chewing slowly as he pulled another berry from the shrub. "Right."

"You're impossible."

He raised an eyebrow, tossing berries into the makeshift bag of his robe while she worked on the second trail mix bag. "It depends on what you want from me. But for you? Yes."

"I appreciate that, Malfoy."

"My pleasure." He said this in a way that made her step away from him to escape the sound of it, though she wasn't sure why.

**July 2; 4:38pm**

It was her turn to carry the bucket, so she kept her good arm wrapped around it, resting her injured one on top of her bag. At first, the hardest part was keeping the water from sloshing over the side, but her arm was burning an hour later since she couldn't shift the weight around at all. She figured she was halfway through before she could push the duty off on Malfoy again.

"Have you ever watched a show - like an old rerun show from twenty years ago--"

"I have a feeling you aren't talking about theater and must be referring to something Muggle. Therefore asking me further proves that your intelligence and logic have been wildly exaggerated."

"So, you're watching," she continues as if he hadn't spoken, "and the team you hope to win does. Every time--"

"I guess you just always pick the winning team, don't you?" he asked dryly, stepping over large tree roots.

"There are people who believe that if we want something badly enough, we just have to concentrate on it, believe it will happen, and it will. Obv--"

"What. A load. Of. Shit. Maybe that happens in your happy world, Granger, but if that were truly the way the world worked, you wouldn't be trying to find a plant to _help_ people. Everyone would have everything they ever wanted. There are people who want something so badly they can taste it - it consumes their entire life - and yet they never get it. People start praying to gods they never believed in, and they do things they never thought they could, but it doesn't _matter_. You can't wish something into being, no matter how desperately you want it."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and glanced over at him, wondering if he was talking about himself. "I agree with you. If I could wish something into being, there would be a lot of food in front of me now, and a bed, a shower, and the plant. But it just makes me think sometimes that...maybe the world is designed for me. That I have the power to control it, even if I don't mean to. It makes me think about the theories in philosophy that believe we're dreaming this. Or that I am, actually, and that it's all my creation--"

"Never call me self-centered again, Granger. While you're at it, dream me somewhere else - with Floralis and far away from you."

"I just think it's an interesting theory. I think everyone has had moments in their life where they thought about something and then it happened. It--"

"If I'm dreaming all of this, then why would I put myself in the wilderness of an island with you? Don't--"

"Have you ever had a nightmare?" He huffed a laugh at the question and muttered something to himself. "And if you've dreamt before, then you know dreams can be sporadic. Sometimes they don't make sense, but we still dream about it. It could be the same thing."

"I think you have control issues."

"Ha! This from the one who keeps trying to dictate everything from where we go, how long we go, and how fast. You nearly had a heart attack when your watch broke and you could no longer know the time."

"That's not control issues, that's not trusting you to make the right--"

"Control issues."

"And when you constantly question every decision I make? From where we go to what path I walk, to the way--"

"I like--"

"Every night you draw a map of where we walked that night, the estimated miles, what we passed, the food or herbs you collected--"

"That's organization!" She hadn't thought he had noticed that.

"I've seen you count what food you had and ration it out to how much you could eat and when--"

"Organization--"

"In order to control!"

"In order to make it _manageable_ , and--"

"Do you believe the lies you tell? Because I really hope you're not doing it for my benefit and wasting all that effort you could be putting into keeping your mouth shut."

Hermione glared at him, her tired arm shaking a little as she held the bucket out to him. It was too early to be his turn again, and he knew it by the way he was looking at it and then her, but she thought the precarious shaking changed his mind on refusing. "Fine," she conceded. "We both have some control issues."


	16. Part Sixten

**July 4; 11:41am**

The small orchard was dusted with at least three shades of every color in the flowers that grew wild, spreading up to the two hills that flanked it. Hermione had paused to appreciate the beauty of the moment until she spotted at least five apple trees and her sight narrowed to that bright red. She swept a critical look over the various flowers, but she knew by now that it would never be so simple to find the Floralis.

Malfoy pulled an apple off first, sending her an uncomfortable look at the way she was staring at him. "Have you ever heard the story about Adam and Eve?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You have?".

"Yes." But he was still raising the apple to his mouth, so she didn't think he'd caught what she meant.

"Then maybe we shouldn't eat them."

He paused at that. "What?"

"You don't know the story, do you." It wasn't a question - she knew he didn't.

"No, and I don't want to hear it either, Granger."

She shook her head. "It's just a little strange that we run into apple trees out of nowhere, Malfoy."

"It's a forest. A lot of things grow out of nowhere."

"I don't know, I have a bad feeling. Why aren't there any animals around here? We haven't run into any food beyond caper berries or fish for days. Shouldn't there be rabbits, and squirrels-- No, Malfoy, Adam and Eve is a biblical story about--"

"Yes, about God and--"

"So, I'm guessing something bad happened to these two people when they ate an apple?"

"Well--"

"And you somehow think that whatever wizard created the magic around the Islands would--"

"They could-- Malfoy, I really don't think--" He bit into it with a crack, an eyebrow raised over the fruit, and Hermione held her breath.

He chewed it, his tongue darting out to lick the juice from his lips, and she figured she was too observant a person for noticing they were wet before that. She tried to stop the growl from her stomach by pressing her palm into it, watching him swallow with a wave of his bitten apple.

"I don't think--."

"Why-- What?"

His lips hovered over the apple before he pulled it back, looking down at himself. Hermione's eyes followed, raking down his stained blue shirt, black trousers, and ending at the tip of his boots. Malfoy lifted his left foot, moving it back a little before promptly falling on his bum. He hissed through his teeth, pulling his legs back to set his feet on the ground, when he grunted loudly, grabbing his calf.

"What? Are you joking right now? _What_?"

"Shut up."

"Malfoy--"

"Something is wrong with my legs." He threw the apple away from him, trying several times to get to his feet, his face turning red and chords rising in his neck.

"What is? What does--"

"Shut up, your voice--"

"You have to tell me what's wrong so I can try to fix it!" she yelled, running to retrieve his thrown apple. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it feels _lovely_. Like a--"

"A crushing pain, a burning pain...?" As she ran back to him she checked it, and the apple looked completely normal, smelling the same, and it must have tasted the same as well or he would have spit it out.

"What does that matter?" His voice was tight, but he had managed to stand, his knuckles white on the bark of the tree.

"I don't know! Try to vomit it up."

" _What_?"

"Just stick your fingers back there and vomit it up!" She didn't know if it was too late for that, but she couldn't think of anything else when Malfoy's face was pronouncing an increasing pain.

She didn't watch him, trying to ignore the sound of it as she snapped a thin branch from the _tree_. The magic was designed to kill them, but sometimes it left a way out. Like eating the flower had stopped her being a puppet, or the ledge in the cave that was an exit. There might be something she could use or do to help him, she just had to figure out what it was.

She thought the movement she caught was the sway of the tree when she snapped another piece from the branch where Malfoy had taken the apple. It wasn't until she glanced up at its stillness for anything else she could use that she saw it wasn't the tree moving but something behind it. Hermione's eyes widened as she shifted to the right, looking through a spot in the foliage to the other side of the orchard. She sucked in a breath, everything locking while her heart slammed into her throat.

It was walking along the edge of where the forest started again; the figure was completely black with its knees bent out as it walked, arms stretching down past its knees and widely swinging. It stopped then, turning towards them while it bent its head, and she knew it was looking at them. Looking at them and there for a reason -- waiting or planning. The magic must have brought it, like her plucking the flower had brought something, making Malfoy lose half his mind when he thought it was following them. Maybe this was what he saw.

"Malfoy," she whispered, eyes unmoving from the figure as she reached out to grab the back of his shirt. "We have to go."

"I can't _go_ \--" He stopped breathing for a moment, and his voice dropped from the tight, angry pain into something that sent the fear coursing harder. "Is it back?"

She ignored the goosebumps, the tightness in her throat, and the static adrenaline clawing along her spine and shoulders. " _Now_."

There was a franticness to the hardness of his face when he looked back at her. "I can hardly move."

"But you're going to run," she told him, not a question in her voice. "I'll--"

The creature shot out from the tree line and got to one of the apple trees before stopping, hidden behind the trunk and leaves. Hermione yanked Malfoy in reaction, turning back the way they had come with a furious need to _move, and now_. Malfoy stumbled with a hard groan before she pushed him up from falling over, grabbing his good arm and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"It's coming," she breathed, forcing them forward as Malfoy began to run like he had cement blocks attached around his legs.

His entire body was pulled into hard lines, the muscles and tendons in his forearm pulled so tight it felt like a rock against her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his waist to help move him forward, ignoring the pain it caused in her healing injuries. She was practically dragging him along with her, more of his weight pressing against her smaller frame as they went, and it looked like it was taking all he had.

They ran faster than she expected them to go, but it didn't feel like fast enough. She knew the creature would have taken off towards them the second they started running, but she couldn't move them any quicker. She was waiting to be thrown to the ground or for claws to sink through the back of her neck, listening for the sound of running over Malfoy's pained gasps of air. He sounded like he was holding his breath every time he moved a leg forward, and every press of his foot to the ground would shove the oxygen out in a loud rush. With their speed, she had thought he was hyperventilating at first.

They broke through the trees -- which were a lot harder to navigate side-by-side, but she was determined. The crook of Malfoy's elbow was slick against the back of her neck, and she could feel a lot of body heat coming through the back of her shirt. She didn't know if he usually got overheated this quickly or if it was the magic, but if

it had started spreading... She clenched her fingers around his hip until the pain of her broken knuckles told her it was a bad idea, Malfoy yelling out when his injured shoulder slammed off a tree.

Hermione pulled him away from it, too scared and panicked to even look at him. He was starting to slow down, sweat soaking through his shirt and against her arm now. If she had to, she would pull the dagger from him and try to defend them. The creature had been huge, though, most likely magical, and she had no idea what kind of powers it would have against her and a knife. Having only a dagger in a magical fight was about as useless as plastic food. She didn't want to fight it unless she absolutely had to.

Malfoy was leaning a lot of his weight on her, and he must have known this because he kept remembering to jerk away from her every few seconds. It was getting harder for her to run or even keep straight, but she kept hauling both of them like freedom was on a time limit in the next clearing. She was panting and sweating, but Malfoy was soaked and gasping for air - it was usually the opposite of that, though she still only got that bad when they were hiking for miles up steep hills.

"Grang-- Gran--" He let out a wheezing breath after every attempt at her name, his arm slipping back from her shoulders before grabbing a fistful of her shirt that was a little too close to her breasts. She would have smacked his hand away in a different situation, but then her shirt pulled up, he fell away, and his back hit the ground.

Hermione spun towards him, staring in shock. He was drenched in sweat, his skin shining a bright red, and his eyes were glossed over in their half-open state. Hermione grabbed the dagger from his waistband, flinging off the thick protective cloth he kept around the blade, and spun circles as she looked for the creature.

"Malfoy? _Malfoy_!" He didn't answer her, so she waited for any sound of running, expecting the _thing_ to jump out at them the moment she reached down to touch his forehead.

She snapped her hand back at the burn against her fingers, squeezing the dagger in one hand while she reached into her bag with the other. She pulled out a sheet and a bottle of water, sinking to her knees next to him. Cutting a patch of the sheet off, she soaked it in the cool water before running it over his face. She had to cool him down and fast, but she didn't know how. She should have cut back towards the river when they had been running, but she had just taken any path that fit the two of them. Two water bottles didn't amount to much help.

It was cooler in the depth of the trees but the day was still warm - she needed something colder, and the only place she could think of was the river and the ground. She didn't know how far the river was, or any body of water, so she would have to dig a little. She stabbed the dagger into the ground between her knees, listening carefully for any approach, and reached out to grab the bottom of Malfoy's shirt.

The fabric was hot in her hands, and his sweat ran over the back of her hand when she squeezed the shirt in her fists. She had to yank and wiggle to get it up between his back and the ground, and through the sweat that stuck it to his skin. She pushed his arms over his head and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it to the side. She poured water on his stomach and ran it over his torso with the sheet, trying not to look too closely.

She felt a little like a creep that was taking advantage of him in his sleep, but the feeling was lost under the panic. She didn't know what was wrong with him or how she could help, and she feared he was dying more than she feared the creature attacking her. She had _warned_ him! She had _told him_ , so why couldn't he have _listened_?

She unwrapped the strips of her cloak that were serving as bandages from his arm and shoulder, checking the wounds. They were still scabbed or closing up, though his shoulder was bleeding a little - it didn't look like he had any sort of infection. She cleaned them anyway, carefully, before ripping another patch of the sheet off and wetting it. She wiped his face before laying it over his forehead, looking down at the button of his trousers with a lot of hesitation in her chest.

"I'm very sorry about this," she muttered, arranging her expression into that of determined detachment as she unbuttoned his trousers.

She gripped the zip and blinked at his belly button as she pulled it down, clearing her throat and blushing despite everything. She made sure not to grab the waist of his shorts as well, before pulling his trousers down, staring at his stomach again, as she worked them over his bum. She might have, just maybe, _accidentally_ glanced in the _area_ of his...underwear -- but it was like a car accident. She couldn't help but look no matter how horrible everything was. It was hardly her fault - it was human nature working against her. Her eyes hadn't even stayed on the outline in the soaked fabric for more than a _second_.

She pulled his trousers down to his ankles, pulling his boots and socks off before yanking them off the rest of the way. Walking and sweating in the same pair of boots for so long had not left Malfoy with very pleasant smelling feet, though she didn't think hers would be any better. She could use it against him later when he was awake and fine and certainly not dead.

Her head snapped up at a sound, her heart stopping for a second, but she only saw a bird taking off from a branch. She let out a shuddering breath and grabbed the dagger, starting to dig into the cooler earth as well as she could.

**5:17pm**

She dug a shallow hole that fit him from head to ankles, though she wasn't too worried about his feet. It was his own fault for being so tall, and she didn't have a shovel or something really effective. His legs -- which were still causing him a massive amount of pain, considering she had only touched them when he had started screaming -- were in, at least. She had taken breaks in between to search out the source of various noises and to wipe him down - she wasn't sure if he was actually coming out of the fever or if she had gotten used to the heat of him. She had tried to get him to drink water, and if he hadn't been so out of it when he woke up enough to swallow, he might have been frightened by her excitement to see him respond.

She had boiled a little water with part of the tree branch, and then the apple seeds, to see if it would do anything, but it didn't have an effect either way. Neither had sticking it in his mouth, or trying to get him to eat the stem from the apple. She didn't know what was going wrong or what to do with him beyond bringing the fever down.

He was relying on her, though, she knew that. He shouldn't have eaten the apple, but it would be just as much her fault if she didn't save him. He had saved her when she had turned into that puppet - had told her to get up and run, and then pulled her behind him to lead her in the right direction. He had pulled her over the ledge instead of leaving her there, and he had killed that bird when it was millimeters away from ripping her face open.

Maybe it was for selfish reasons - maybe he didn't want her to die before whatever happened with the scars had passed. Or maybe it was just because they were in this whole bad situation together, until the end when they would have to turn against one another to get the plant. He looked out for her and she looked out for him - that was the way it was supposed to go in order for them to get through this alive. He wasn't supposed to be sick or dying from the magic while she fumbled over every attempt to help him.

Hermione traced the lines of Malfoy's face with the wet cloth, shaking her head at the direction of her life. She'd imagine a lot of people under the tender care of her hand, but never Draco Malfoy. She left a wet trail along the straight line of his nose, across his cheekbones, over his brow. She had never found him particularly attractive, but she was usually too busy glaring at him or hating him for whatever he was saying. His face had become too familiar in the way that she didn't actually _see_ it when she looked at him. She just took in the basics, knew it was Malfoy, and then dismissed any further observation.

She supposed it had been easier to miss that way, or maybe he had just grown into an appealing face when she had been too busy with more important things. There were a lot of different types of men she found attractive, and if she _had_ to be honest - and only with herself - then she might say that Malfoy happened to be one of them. Too bad his personality ruined everything and she couldn't enjoy it. She might even be imagining it in her current state of exhaustion and paranoia.

She felt a bit like what Malfoy must have felt like when he went all weird on her. _Is it back_ , he had asked, and maybe that was what he saw when the magic took her over, before he launched them through the forest. Now she was the one sitting up past the call for sleep and holding the dagger to her chest, jumping at every little sound.

She watched the cloth as it trailed over his lips and he opened them reflexively. Grabbing the water bottle, she poured some into his mouth, lifting his head up as he swallowed it. "Malfoy?"

She still didn't get a response.

**July 5; 6:23am**

Hermione jerked away, raising the dagger on some instinct, but found it gone from the clutch of her hand. Her eyes swung up from the pair of bare legs beside her, finding Malfoy standing over her with the dagger instead. She let out a heavy breath before rushing to her feet, taking a step back as her gaze flicked over him. The world was definitely lighter than it had been when she fell asleep, but she didn't know how long ago that had been. She didn't even know how Malfoy was standing in front of her right now.

He raised his eyebrows, a faint smile on his lips as he wrapped cloth around the blade and pushed it into his waistband. "You look jumpy, Granger. Afraid I'm back from the dead for revenge? Risen from the grave you stuffed me in after...taking off my clothes? Didn't know you had it in you. Especially the--"

She turned away from him at the absurd blur coating her eyeballs, blinking quickly as she cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say for distraction. He had noticed anyway, the curious amusement replaced by confusion and something she didn't recognize. Hermione had never been immune to emotional responses - she cared too much about everything. It only grew worse when she was tired, and with the heaviness of her stress.

"Those aren't... That's not from _guilt_ , is it? Did you really try to kill me earlier? Why didn't I have--"

"No, I... God, are you stupid? Of course not," she snapped, but it came out a little too clogged.

"I--"

"I couldn't help you. I don't even know how you're standing right now, because _nothing_ I did was working! I tried the bark, and the wood, the seeds, the apple. I had to dig the hole and remove your clothes to keep your fever down. You were _burning up_ , and you were in so much pain. I checked your wounds and cleaned them, but they were fine. I tried to keep you hydrated and cool, but then I ran out of water some time last night, and... I didn't know how to help you."

She had felt so useless, and she hated to not be able to do something, especially when it came to helping someone or saving them. His life had been in her hands, and she had been stuck trying everything while thinking he was dying all day and night. It had been a horrible experience, and _somehow_ he was standing there looking tired but _fine_. She didn't even know what to do with herself.

Malfoy's eyes had widened through her explanation, becoming completely still as he stared at her, his expression unreadable. She felt stupid for actually getting teary in front of him but she couldn't help it. She was on an emotional overload.

"Last night?" His voice sounded distant, like he had been going through a hundred things in his mind, not knowing what to say, when that had just slipped out.

"Yes. You ate the apple yesterday." Her voice cracked, and she just barely held herself back from yelling at him for eating it and putting her through all this.

He pushed his hair away from his face, dirt falling onto his bare back from his hair and palms. She was covered in it to her elbows, but the whole back of him would be dirty. "Does that work?"

"What?"

"Digging the hole."

"I don't know. I just thought that it must be," she cleared her throat again, "cooler underground so I dug as far as I could."

He nodded, looking back at the hole before meeting her eyes for the first time since her Emotional Incident. He cleared his throat, wiping the dirt from his palms. "I feel a bit like I was just raised from the dead, but...I'm fine."

"You look fine. A little pasty but that's to be expected." It sounded less offensive in her head.

He gave her a warning look followed by a rude one, running his eyes down her exhaustion-wrecked face. "It must have worked itself out."

She nodded, scrunching her nose in thought. "Thankfully, since... It must have been to keep you from running. From that thing."

"Yeah."

She took a deep breath, swallowed, and picked up her bag. The space around them was awkward and strange, and it felt a little hard to move. "We have to--"

"Thank you," he rushed out.

Her eyes flew to his, both of them staring at the other for several seconds. "You're welcome."

**7:41am**

"You have got to be kidding me, Granger. I let you lead, and you bring us here? I think you need intense therapy at Mungo's for this obsession you have with danger, because--"

"We need the bucket--"

" _Fuck_ the bucket! It is--"

"I have a theory. I--"

" _Fantastic_ \--”

"Just listen - please?" The word had the desired effect on him, likely from the shock of her using it, and he focused his anger on her without trying to leave again. "You know that we're both going to be afraid of this thing following us, espec-- Well, it didn't last time, and I think with how fast I saw it run yesterday, it should have been able to catch us."

"Granger," he said lowly, bending his head closer to hers as if she wasn't getting his point through the small distance, "we don't _need_ the bucket. We can walk back to the river, we have the tin--"

"I don't think it can leave the orchard, though. I think they can only move within a certain area, or they only attack when one of us is helpless from the magic."

"And we'll have to _enter_ into this _area_ in order to get a _bucket_ we don't _need_." He was speaking to her like she was mentally handicapped, and she really had to control herself to not turn it into an argument.

"I don't think it's there until the magic summons it there. Once the magic starts showing up on us, that's when we see it."

"Because--"

"There's no reason for it not to have caught up to us yesterday, or to have backed off when we were running. Running is what _prey_ do, and a predator--"

"These aren't animals--"

"The bucket is about eight meters in. Even if it doesn't have to be summoned, we'll see it when it's in the open or comes out from the trees somewhere. We won't go in if it's in the open, and if it comes out, we'll turn and run back."

"You're basing that on the idea that it has to stay in that area."

"Then why hasn't it attacked us yet? This morning when we both were asleep, if nothing else--"

"You're risking our lives for a _theory_. I'm not going into that orchard." He was determined, standing straight and looking at her down the line of his nose.

"Fine. I'll go."

"You're still risking--" It took him a second to realize she wasn't just staring at his stomach or being a pervert, and he laid his hand over the handle of the dagger. "I don't think so. You're--"

"Do you have to be so difficult?" she bit out, sending him a glare before turning for the clearing.

"I'm not being--" He tried to grab her arm but she jerked away, clearing the trees and pausing at the edge of the orchard.

She made a less than thorough pass with her eyes before Malfoy grabbed her elbows, pulling her back into the trees. She would have fallen if his body hadn't been behind hers, and she stared stupidly at the rough bark next to her face, with the feel of him pressed against her back. There really had been too much Malfoy touching and...seeing lately. It wasn't that she _liked_ it, it was just from the oddity of it that she was so _super aware_. She thought she might be able to feel his heartbeat in the space between her shoulder blades, though she was probably imagining it.

She could feel his breath push through her hair and to the shell of her ear, a strand of curls blowing up across her cheek from his exhale. "You're forcing me into a situation that I don't want to be in, Granger. I don't have the history of dealing with that very well in my life, so I suggest--"

"I just want to--" She didn't know why she was whispering like he had done, as if the creature would hear them when it should have been able to see them plainly.

"Leave. The fucking. _Bucket_."

Hermione stared out through the trees and into the clearing, not seeing any figure or movement anywhere. She was almost positive the creature was restricted to the area, or they both would have been dead or injured after she had accidentally nodded off this morning, if not before that. The bucket had been great for cooking without having to hold the tin over fire, and it had kept the majority of their water supply. She wanted it as badly as she wanted to know that that _thing_ wasn't going to be popping out at them a few days from now.

But she couldn't convince Malfoy, and it wasn't like it was life or death. She couldn't force him into a situation that _might_ become that, though. She knew how angry she would be if he did it to her. "You have to promise me something."

"I don't--"

"You can't go crazy on me again. Don't deny that you did. You went a little nuts, Malfoy, and that's fine, but if you start getting scary again, I will drag you back here myself." She didn't know why she hadn't turned around to face him yet, or moved away from the pressure of him against her back.

She watched the clearing, still not seeing anything, and Malfoy's hand fell away from her elbow. "Fine. I'll agree."

"You promise?"

"I said I agree, it's the--"

"No, agreeing means you share my idea for _the moment_ , while _promising_ means you will stay true to it even if you no longer agree in the future."

"Do you _have_ to make everything so impossible? Fine, I _promise_. Now that I've managed to save you from yourself--"

"Dramatic."

"--back to the river, fill up the bottles, and then cut back to the mountains again."

He moved to the side as she turned, waiting with a warning in his look for her to start walking away first. She could still feel the heat of him against her back, where it had sunk in past her shirt and settled into her skin. She reached back to pull her shirt away from her back, but the warmth remained.

**8:01pm**

She knew Malfoy's legs must be hurting badly if hers were this tired. She could tell by the way he had started to walk this morning that they were stiff, if not sore, so she was surprised he hadn't stopped by now. It was darkening around them, and she was too tired from her lack of sleep last night to try to navigate around trees in the dark.

"I know you're probably as thirsty as I am, and the more we walk the sooner we get there, but I think we should stop before it gets dark."

She had been glaring at him for fifteen minutes when she thought of how he wasn't as thirsty as her since he had been the last to drink, but then she remembered that he had sweat all of that out and more. She couldn't stay angry with him when a little over twelve hours ago he had been soaked in sweat with his eyes rolled up into his head. She needed some water, though - every inhale felt like she was dragging wind across sand in her throat.

"Before it gets dark or before you collapse from so much _physical labor_."

Perhaps it _wasn't_ that hard to stay angry with him. "I half carried you while running last night. I wouldn't call that weakness."

He hesitated - she could hear the little cracks in his throat as his breath pushed over letters he wasn't sure if he should say. "No."

"And you weigh about as much as a library."

"A library? And for fuck's sake, Granger, I'm in optimal physical shape--"

"Optimal?"

"And have been starved for _months_ \--"

"Months? You're--"

"Yes, months. We got here in May--"

"--like eight feet tall--"

"Eight feet? Now who's exaggerating? I _might_ be a foot taller than you, and likely le--"

"All long-limbed like a tree--"

"A tree? I am completely pro--"

"Exactly that, really! I was turned into a lumberjack, hauling a broken tree through the forest--"

"A what?"

"--more than I do, so I really don't think you should judge me on my...aversion to running. Or climbing things. I hate climbing things."

He laughed at her, a genuine sound, and her shoulder almost collided with a tree from how distracted she was by it. She wasn't sure if she had ever heard him laugh like that. "I noticed," he told her.

"At least I don't walk downhill like it's about to cave under my feet at any second."

"What?" He glanced back at her, and she raised her eyebrows at him, moving up to walk beside him.

"I've never seen anyone glare at the ground so hard. You lean back way more than you have to and you look like you're trying to march down," she laughed out. "Every time we come to a steep hill, I can't help but look at you just to see the wary annoyance on your face."

He pressed his tongue into his cheek, flashing her a look from the corner of his eye. "Perhaps I had a traumatic experience when I was a child, and now you're making fun of it. At least--"

"Or you're afraid your inflated head is going to unbalance you," she snickered.

"If your hair didn't create so much--" He pulled up short when she did, both of them staring at the slope of the hill in front of them.

He leveled a dangerous look at her, but she had already broken into laughter.

**July 6; 1:41pm**

"I think we took a wrong turn somewhere."

He gave her a look like she had just pointed out the color of the sky, before turning his eyes back to the small house in front of them. She had been almost positive that they had retraced the mostly straight route they had taken to the orchard, but they definitely hadn't passed this house. They must have wandered off their original trail by some meters, but they must have still been going in the right direction - either way, she didn't think Malfoy would give her credit for her nightly maps again.

The house blended easily into the forest, the sides as brown as the ground and trunks, and the roof a dark green. The door was ajar, but it didn't mean that no one was home, and she wasn't sure if they should knock, wait to see anyone, or just leave. Malfoy had already made up his mind, circling the house to get a look through the windows. She moved towards him when he came back around, heading for the door.

"We should knock first."

"I'm not knocking for entrance to an empty house."

"Just in case," she insisted, grabbing his arm when his hand closed over the doorknob.

He waited, settling an impatient look on her before she knocked, opening the door the second her knuckles left the wood. She followed him inside, glancing over her shoulder to see if the owner was standing behind her with a weapon like her paranoia tried to tell her. She ran into Malfoy's back, not knowing he had stopped, but he hardly moved a millimeter. She expected something bad when she pushed up on her toes to see over his shoulder properly, but all she found was a tired looking living room.

There was a worn chair against the wall, an empty table with a block of wood serving as one of the legs, and an old painting of a row of houses. She heard something scampering right before Malfoy stepped back and pushed her with him, stopping when the squirrel appeared. He moved his arms in front of him, and she didn't know what he was doing until his arms dropped to his sides, the dagger in hand.

"Close the--"

"What are you doing? It's just a squirrel--"

"We can't survive off caper berries forever, and we don't have much left either. If--"

"But... It's a squirrel. I mean, it's _edible_ but..." _bushy-tailed, cute_.

It was ridiculous to not do it based on the reasoning that it was _cute_ when Malfoy was right. The caper berries were doing weird things to her stomach, even after she tried cooking them. They needed something with more sustenance but... She just hated to have to kill animals to do it. Hermione ate meat, but once she started branching out from anything that wasn't easily found in a supermarket, she was reluctant. She would do it if she had to, if Malfoy couldn't - she knew the need to survive could push people to do a lot of things they didn't think they could. At least Malfoy could do it, though he had looked like he was going to be sick whenever he did. Not the fish, though - she wondered if it was the warmth of the animals that bothered him.

"We should make sure no one lives here first, before you do it in here. With...you know, the blood. It will bleed out."

"I'm aware," he drawled, watching as the squirrel ran into a different room.

She followed when he entered, pulling the door shut behind her. There was a bed of bamboo and leaves in another room, and the first solid sign that the place had been abandoned. The leaves were old, brown and curled, but unbroken by any weight. Some of them were scattered across the floor, and they crunched under their feet as they looked for a door or anything in the corners of the room. There was a small desk with a used up pen, a blank piece of torn paper, and a sock on top of a crudely cut log. The only other room had a pile of logs, several carved animal figurines, and a wooden bowl. The windows from there overlooked a small pond and a tiny once-garden, though she could see three tiny tomatoes growing.

"I'm going to boil some of that water to refill the containers." Which was also her way of telling him that she didn't plan to be around for any squirrel hunting.

"Are you going to empty the other water?"

It took her a second to realize what he was referring to. "I'm going to put it in one of the bags from the trail mix. I'll keep it shut with one of my hair clips, and just try to keep it so it doesn't spill."

She didn't know how she was going to manage not spilling it since her bag went through as much abuse as she did - the constant jumping, shifting, swinging, and falling wasn't going to make it easy, but at least she would know that she had tried.

"Make sure you clean it out really well. I don't plan on making another trip there," he told her.

"You're such a killjoy." He arched an eyebrow at her sarcastic tone, but his attention was on the logs and the squirrel behind them.

She left him to it, exiting from the front door and walking around the house. She had her quill in hand because despite her theory and making Malfoy promise to stay sane, she was still nervous about the creature. She couldn't help it - not until they were miles from the orchard and days into being safe. Or relatively safe, anyway, which was about as good as it got.

It was silent in the house for several minutes while she gathered up some sticks, laying them by the pond, not bothering to circle them with rocks since the ground was barren. She knelt down, and was pulling out what she needed from her bag, when the running started. Her hands froze as she looked up at the slanted, rectangular holes that served as windows, hearing something slide followed by a thud.

"Malfoy?" She got to her feet slowly, glancing around before focusing back on the window, swallowing past her jumping heart. "Malfoy?"

"Are you dying? Is there something about to kill us?" He sounded angry, which took some of the fear away from her. Angry was normal.

"No. Why are you--" "Then I don't care." "Why are you run--"

"I know it's difficult for you to shut up, since you have to let some of the thoughts out before your already overfilled brain explodes, but until I catch this--" He cut off on a growl, and she could hear him start to run again.

She almost laughed at the image of him running into things and trying to pounce on an animal that was quicker. She didn't, though, knowing by now that whenever she laughed at him for his anger, or to attempt brightening the situation, it only made him angrier. She had laughed at him earlier today for slapping himself in the face when a mosquito landed on his nose, and his jaw was clenching for an hour after. She might get angry with him for laughing at her about certain things, but she had laughed right with him when she tripped over a rock last night. And people thought _she_ was uptight.

She still couldn't help but grin at the various thuds and frustrated noises, emptying the magic water into her bag and pulling one of the clips from her hair. She tried to push and twist her hair enough for the one clip to be enough to hold it up, but the final version was precarious at best. She used one of the empty bottles to collect water from the pond and pour it into the contaminated bottle, not wanting to infect the water supply but putting it in there to wash.

It took her over ten minutes of washing it out before she was convinced it was clean, but Malfoy was still in the house. She had to wait for him to hold the tin over the fire before she could do anything else, so she kept the fire alive until she finally heard the front door creak open. She was hoping that the silence of the past few minutes had been him preparing it to cook because she really didn't want to see that.

She glanced up at him, poking another stick into the flames, and her eyebrows pulled down when she only saw a clean dagger in his hand. She was about to ask if it jumped out of one of the windows when she heard the scampering from inside.

"What happened?"

"It got out."

She gave him a look of disbelief, glancing at the house and then back to him again. "I thought I just heard it."

He shrugged a shoulder, motioning for her to hand him the full tin. "Let me know if you keep hearing things, Granger. I'd like some warning signs before you lose it completely."

He was obviously lying, attempting to insult her as a way to distract her from the subject. She was starting to catch on to the way he did that. Malfoy was a challenge to her intellect, and it had just taken her awhile to recognize and admit it. Not to say that her friends weren't smart - some of them, at least - but usually the most mental stimulation she received was from books. Fighting and debating things with him always kept her on her toes, but trying to figure him out was a constant puzzle. He was like a strange specimen under the microscope of her inquisitive mind.

Maybe he couldn't catch the squirrel so he had just given up. He probably wouldn't want to tell her that he couldn't capture a small animal in an enclosed space. Or maybe it had fought too hard to get away from him - like how she felt guilty when the fish stared at her. It was hard to kill anything, but it was a lot worse when it was fighting so hard for its survival. She wondered if Malfoy had let it go because of that - if he had, she couldn't hold it against him.

She walked over to the garden to pick the three tomatoes from the vine, biting her lip at the small quantity. "I helped my grandmother plant a garden when I was a kid. It's my favorite memory of her. We planted a tree, too - an apple tree, actually. I was so excited by it. Every time I went to visit her, we would go out and measure how much it had grown."

"You were excited to plant a tree that wouldn't even grow any fruit for years?"

"But it would eventually, and it never would if you didn't plant it at all. You get to see it grow into something, and I watched it grow with me. She always called it my tree, and... You know, it was something we helped to create, even if it took years to get anything physical from it. It's not about instant gratification, Malfoy. It's slow, but it pays off in the end. If-- What?"

His grin was _wicked_ as he looked at her, and there was something about it that made her blush before she could know why. It felt dangerous, but her eyes didn't leave his face. "There's nothing wrong with a little instant gratification, Granger. The rewards could be just as satisfying."

She blushed even deeper, the heat spreading until it felt like it was trying to set her entire face on fire. She cleared her throat, trying to focus on the now ironic tomatoes in her palm, but her eyes unwillingly kept traveling back up to meet his. She was going to completely ignore what she knew he must be talking about with that look on his face, trying to bring the conversation back to solid ground. Solid, neutral, nonsexual ground. "Yes, well, when you watch something build up to that, I--"

"You like it plain, don't you? I'm not surprised. You're probably offended by--"

"This conversation and your assumptions of my..." She searched for the right words before deciding to smack him in the shoulder instead. "I will not--"

"Then again, you're obviously violent, so maybe you get a bit--"

"I think we should--"

"Should what?" He raised an eyebrow and she sputtered, face flaming.

"Not that!"

He laughed at her then - full on, shoulders shaking, laughed at her. "You look like you're going to explode from all your indignation and embarrassment, Granger. No instant gratification in that - at least, not for you."

"Oh, _typical man_ , then," she snapped, clutching onto anger because it was a lot easier to deal with than the obnoxious embarrassment. She had started to feel almost shy, which was absurd, like when she pretended to be sleeping in the dormitories while her roommates talked about the things their boyfriends did.

Malfoy had completely flustered her, which she was sure had been his point.

"There's nothing _typical_ about me." His voice came out low and sure, making her breathing a little strange as she avoided the spark of grey across from her.

Because it was creepy. That was why.


	17. Part Seventeen

**July 8; 9:18am**

Malfoy was a tapper. She didn't know what he was tapping out, if anything at all, but she caught him constantly tapping his fingers against himself when they walked. Sometimes it looked like he was playing the piano or putting it to the beat of music, but other times it just followed some schedule of time. She would watch to see if she recognized the beat, but a few times she thought of wrapping his fingers up tight so he would just _stop_ _already_.

It wasn't like she could hear it, but it was the motion that got to her. Especially when her steps were on time with his. The crunch of their step, the up-and-down of their bodies, the tap of his finger, the jumble of her bag -- and then it repeated itself. Over, and over, and over again. At times she just wanted to break into a run to break the mind-numbing routine

She could ramble out loud for an hour without him saying a word in response - she knew he must have _some sort_ of thoughts going on in his head, and she didn't understand why he couldn't share them. Very rarely had he ever started a conversation himself. She tried to bring up interesting things, which he replied to half the time, or if she really felt the cabin fever inside her own mind, she would pick fights. After a day of silence, she had called him a robot with no opinions last night, which had turned into ten minutes of yelling that felt good until it got bad. _I'm not trying to be your friend. I don't_ _want_ _to be your friend_ , he had told her, and just snorted when she told him that wasn't what she was trying to do. They had glared at one another until they fell asleep.

She couldn't help but be a little offended. She didn't see him as a friend, but he was... She didn't know what he was. She didn't even know if there was a definition for their current... _partnership_. Both of them had saved the other's life, more than once. She was starting to adjust to having him around her, and sometimes it wasn't even that bad of a thing. Sometimes, somehow, it was actually sort of...all right. Maybe that didn't make them friends, but she wouldn't call them enemies anymore. He certainly didn't have to tell her that he didn't want to be friends, like a _child_.

She sped up until she passed him, not wanting to see his tapping fingers anymore because she would be forced to scream from monotony.

**July 9; 5:01pm**

Hermione felt gross - like everything was blending together into one murky puddle of disgusting things, and she couldn't escape from the middle of it all. She had gone too long without washing, and the only thing that had helped get the dirt off her skin was the amount of sweat she had worked up over the hot day. Her hair felt greasy and weighed down, her skin was dirty and sticky, she smelt bad, and her mouth tasted disgusting. Her meals consisted of berries, her stomach cramped regularly from lack of nutrition, and she had to wait until she was practically coughing dust to have a sip of water.

She was losing energy from the strenuous walking and the lack of vitamins, her body weak and feeling displaced. In her head, she could imagine her bones shrinking inside until they moved oddly on the joints. She didn't even have the energy to bury the fur from the squirrel Malfoy had caught half an hour ago, her once-calm stomach revolting at the sight of it. Her clothes were filthy, _she_ was filthy, and despite that she would be eating meat in a few minutes, there was way too much blood sizzling at the bottom of the tin. Some days she felt like a survivor in the wilderness, but there were weak moments - like now - where she just wanted to curl up and sleep until everything was better.

"I found some mint leaves."

She raised her head from where it was buried in her arms, folded over her knees, and gave a tired smile. "Like an after dinner mint."

She didn't think of the herbal properties until after she'd already said it. Malfoy looked at her like she was a fluffy animal he didn't know the purpose of. "Sure."

**July 10: 9:03am**

They made a wide circle around the fire pit, Hermione only glancing at the animal carcasses and the maggots that feasted on what was left of the meat. She held her breath, closing her eyes from the image as her shoulders heaved a little with her gag. Malfoy started walking faster and she sped up as well, wanting as much distance as possible between herself and the ominous feeling that came with seeing the fire pit again.

**1:58pm**

She might have squealed a bit in her excitement, but she ignored all comments Malfoy made about pigs and pointed up at the banana tree in front of her. She had never thought she would be so happy to see bananas again, but she stared at them like they had just told her everything she would need to know for finding complete happiness. It took her several seconds to focus through her excitement and see that they happened to be up higher than she could reach.

She looked at the top of Malfoy's head and followed it down to his wrist, trying to determine if he had the height and arm span, but she knew they were up too far. "You can stop looking at me like that now that we don't have to turn into cannibals, Granger."

She might have been annoyed had the prospect of food not been literally dangling over her head. "I was trying to tell if you could reach it. Maybe you can climb that tree right there and..."

"Launch myself?" he drawled, like it was the normal response he heard from idiots.

"Do you have a better idea? We need it and there's no other way to get it. And you're more...agile." There was no way throwing herself at a tree would be a good idea, and he seemed to think the same judging by his smirk.

"Yes, I recall your tree climbing abilities, Granger." She gave him a sour look. "I'll lift you up there."

"What?"

"I know." He gave her a once-over before walking towards the tree. "It will be a true test of my strength, but--"

She snorted, offended, as she straightened out the hem of her worn shirt. "Maybe I should lift _you_ up. I wouldn't want you to--"

"I'm pretty sure we've already proved the stronger of the two of us. Several times."

"Just _barely_ ," she muttered, though it had been more like _a lot_ , not that he needed her to inflate his ego any more. "Fine. Are we doing it now?"

He pushed his tongue against his cheek, his eyebrows drawing down as he looked off to the side in a mockery of thought. "Maybe we should wait until we starve, or just do it tomorrow for the hell of it."

That was the last time she tried to politely tell him she was ready and to hurry up, instead of just demanding it. He pulled the dagger out, shoving the protective cloth into his pocket, and spun it so the handle was pointing towards her. She was surprised he had offered it, but holding her up while she had to stab the bananas off with her quill would have been a little rough.

She reached out to grab it when he pulled it back, giving her a warning look. "Don't get any ideas."

She rolled her eyes, taking it when he held it out again, and watched him bend as he locked his fingers together. She stepped into his hand, automatically reaching out to grab his shoulder for balance when he lifted her up. It wasn't until he winced that she realized it was his injured one and she released her death grip.

"Sorry."

"Just cut them down."

She reached up, finding her center balance, before she grabbed the branch and pulled it further down. The sharpness of the blade had her cutting down two bunches before she could have speared through half of one with her quill. She was going to cut down as many as she thought they could carry in case they went a long time without finding food again. She had room in her bag for at least three now that the bucket was gone, and Malfoy could carry a good amount in his robe.

"You might want to hurry it up before my arm breaks or the tree dies in a couple years."

He was looking up at her when she glanced down with a sniff at his comment, waiting for him to stop tilting his head back before _accidentally_ dropping a bunch on his head. It proved to be a bad idea when the surprise of it caused him to drop his hands down, throwing her off balance until she nearly smacked her face into the tree. She had to catch herself against it with her right hand, her knuckles flaring with the jolt.

"Watch how fast I drop you," he barked, glancing at the bananas that had hit him.

He pushed her back up again until the toe of her shoe was to his chest, the front of her leg against his shoulder. He didn't look away from her now, glaring when she muttered about how it was only bananas, and she cut them down as quickly as she could.

**July 11; 2:48am**

Hermione barely woke up as she rolled over, trying to snuggle deeper into the hard ground in an action learned from a life of bed-sleeping. She ignored the first drop of wetness against her cheek, too sleepy to really register it, but her eyes were open by the third one. She blinked at the feel of a raindrop hitting her hair, trying to remember why this was something important, when she heard movement coming closer.

She shoved herself upright, swinging her gaze around to Malfoy as he paused in walking towards her. She could see him clearly in the moonlight as he lifted his chin at her, wiping away a drop that fell on his forehead. "Get out the bottles."

The rain started picking up as she pulled the bottles out, handing them to Malfoy, and pulled out her bath supplies. She had little shampoo left, but she still had two bars of soap, and if this rain lasted long enough...

"Are you going to be staying here?" He looked at her like he was deaf, and she made a sound of annoyance, before realizing he really hadn't heard her. "I'm going to go try to wash off a little, so are you staying in this spot?"

He raised an eyebrow before holding up his hand, two fingers holding his own soap and shampoo to his palm. He twisted his wrist, pointing to the left and she nodded, grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste before heading to the right. She must have looked a bit ridiculous - standing in the rain while she quickly scrubbed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth and lather dripping from her head - but she didn't care. No one was there to see her and she _needed_ it. She had been afraid another day would embed the dirt forever in her skin. Malfoy probably looked equally ridiculous, however many meters he was from her. She didn't know why it was so weird to have him standing as naked as she was somewhere through the trees - everyone was naked under their clothes, and the foliage served the same purpose at the moment. There was still a feeling of exposure, though, as if he could see her or she could see him just by turning their heads.

She felt oddly in touch with nature, but in the good way that didn't make her want to cut down trees or jump into a tub of sanitizer. The only real _nature_ aspect was the rain and the forest around her - she didn't know if it really counted as being in touch with nature when she was using manufactured products. It was sort of like bringing a bed and bathroom on a camping trip. It still felt good, though, and she found herself smiling despite everything.

**July 13; 3:03pm**

They gave one another a wary look when they spotted the mouth to a cave in the mountain in front of them. Usually they would have taken off by now, trying to beat the other one in reaching whatever clue or plant they might find inside. The wary look was because they knew this, and no matter what, they still didn't want the other person to get there before them. But most of all, it was the magic. That's why she wasn't sprinting and trying to shove him away from getting there first, and she was guessing it was the same for him. They both knew by now that if the plant, or something useful for finding it, was there, that meant magic would be there as well. And even if there was _nothing_ important inside, there was probably something bad in it for them.

She stepped forward when he did, both of them hesitating for a moment before their steps fell in unison towards the cave. It was better for them if they took their time, that way they might have a chance at seeing anything that was off. Taking their time meant they had to do this together - for now. He was probably planning to tackle her or something if she found anything, because she knew that was what she planned on doing as well. She would no doubt try to outrun him if she saw anything important, but for now, going in together was the safest choice.

It still felt wrong - she almost wanted to push him or something just to stop the weird sensation crawling along her bones. She made sure not to fall behind a step, noticing that he was doing the same, and shot him a look for taking such long strides. They sent as many side glances to one another as they sent searching looks around the cave. She was jumpy, ready to leap after him if he swayed just a little too far to the side, or to spring in any direction of something useful. She was also anticipating anything to happen at any second from the magic. All of it made her bones rattle until she was sure she would tackle Malfoy just for twitching.

So when she actually _heard_ something, it took her several long seconds to know that it was real and not just her anxiety. Malfoy seemed to hear it just after she registered it, both of them stopping as the scraping noise filled the cave again. It started to grow louder, a light appearing against the sidewall in the dimness. Hermione looked forward on the ground, spotting the sphere of light coming from an entrance on the left that she hadn't seen before.

She moved to the wall, rock dust rising up from the floor, and the sound of her quill sliding against denim was as loud as a yell to her straining ears. Malfoy stepped back four paces, but she barely noticed as she watched the light grow brighter. Considering the light, it was magic or a person, and she didn't trust either possibility.

The scraping sound stopped, the light staying where it was, as she glanced over at Malfoy. He was still, watching the entrance, and it was the look that crossed his face that made her attention snap back to the entrance as well. There was a man staring back at her, blinking rapidly to adjust his eyes to the dim light as he moved out from the side entrance. Hermione backed up, the meter between them not enough distance, though she tried to smile in case he wasn't a threat. He didn't look like one - just a little taller than her, bigger than Malfoy but more fat than muscle, a soft face, and a ridiculous hat pulled low on his head. He looked like a middle-aged tourist who had wandered off to look around the island on his own. He looked normal, though a little dirty, until his attention turned to Malfoy at the scrape of his foot behind her.

The man's face changed to anger in a second, and he was running forward before she could even step back. She watched him dart by, Malfoy looking like he was caught between directions in which to run, his hand shooting to his waist. Hermione turned to face them when the man collided into the blond, sending them both sprawling to the ground as the dagger flew from Malfoy's hand.

She dropped her bag, rushing forward to help Malfoy get the man off him, when she saw the large hunting knife pulling back above the two. Malfoy caught the stranger's wrist in the downward slash of the knife, both of their arms shaking under or against the strength of the other. Hermione went for the man's fingers, digging her nails into his skin as she tried to pull them off from around the handle. His other hand was wrapped around Malfoy's throat, the blond gurgling on saliva as he punched the attacker in the face.

Hermione had only gotten one finger off when the man switched tactics, swinging the blade back towards her as she jumped away from it. He turned his head to look at her, blood pouring from his nose, and then Malfoy's fingers stabbed into his eyes. Hermione sprinted around them, searching for the glint of Malfoy's dagger a meter away, and snatching it up when she found it.

Malfoy was getting weaker, his arm slowly sinking down, his face a worrying shade of red from the lack of oxygen. The tip of the hunting knife was shaking millimeters from his jaw, slicing across it in a split second before Malfoy dragged up enough energy to push it back again. Hermione ran behind the man, putting the flat of the dagger to his throat. It only took him a second to freeze.

"Let go of his throat. Now." Her voice was shaking from adrenaline and fear. She had never thought she would be in a position where she would have to put a knife to someone's throat in her life. If only she had her magic. _If only_ _._

He did, pulling his hand back, but Malfoy still looked like he was trying to pull in oxygen and the passageway was closed. His hand pulled back from the man's face to touch his own throat, struggling for a second longer before she heard the gasp for air.

"Put your hand out. The other one. Away from him, slowly... Now drop it."

Hermione kicked the knife away as soon as it clinkered to the floor, Malfoy trying to pull himself out from under the man as he gasped and coughed. He shoved the man up and pushed back, freeing himself as Hermione grabbed the back of the attacker's shirt. She pushed the flat of the blade harder against his throat when he jerked forward, stilling his movement.

"Malfoy?"

He was still coughing, getting to his feet as he grabbed the hunting knife from the ground. He turned towards her, looking a little deranged when his eyes met hers, reaching up a thumb to wipe the blood from his lip. "He has a partner," he wheezed.

The man remained silent, kneeling in front of her and breathing harshly. He didn't move except for the heave of his body for air, and his swallowing against the blade. "What?"

"The one who attacked you, I think." The tip of his tongue pressed into the split in his lip as he lifted his bandaged arm to look at it. "He should be here as well."

The one who had attacked her...the massive man that had found her in the woods and then on the mountain. "Is your partner here?" Hermione asked, but he didn't answer her.

"He's here."

"How do you know?" she asked, and followed the nod of his chin down the cave. She expected to see a bulking figure or the hard face with eyes like tree knots, but there was nothing. "Wha--"

"The footprints."

She glanced back again, looking at the sphere of brighter light from the side tunnel, and spotting the prints in the rock dust. There were at least two different sizes, and from large one she could make out, Malfoy might have been right about the partner being her attacker. She looked down at the top of the man's head, her brain spinning quickly through possibilities. These were dangerous people, likely looking for the plant as well, and had attacked her twice. Perhaps more than that, considering the reaction the man had to seeing Malfoy.

They needed a way to keep the men away from them and the plant, but Hermione couldn't kill - or justify killing - anyone. God only knew how far they were from any civilization with police or something to lock them up in. There were no permanent solutions that she was willing to take, so beyond tying them up to trees...

"Malfoy. Get the water."

"What?" He was rubbing his throat, an easy hatred turning his face hard as he stared at the man.

"The trail mix bag. The water."

The vicious grin that broke across his face almost made her rethink her decision, his steps purposeful as he quickly walked to her bag. He brought it back with him, and she pressed the blade harder into the man's neck again when she saw his hand slowly moving to his chest. They needed to hurry before he tried something or his partner came out from wherever he was in the cave.

"You have two options. We can kill you," Malfoy started, and she thought it was pretty big talk coming from someone who had trouble killing squirrels, "or you can drink this water."

"Which won't kill you."

"If you do it right."

Hermione had expected having to force him or go with the tying up idea, but the man opened his mouth. The look of hatred on Malfoy's face was mirrored on their attacker's, and Hermione pushed the flat blade a little harder in warning as Malfoy drew closer.

"Put your head back." She only glanced down to see the fierce anger aimed at her as Malfoy poured some of the water into his mouth. "Swallow."

She released the back of his shirt, not wanting to touch him in case it took her too. She could feel his throat push back against the pressure of the dagger as he swallowed, and she moved it away quickly, not touching him with it but leaving it close enough that she easily could if she had to. For a moment, there was only stillness, and then he was gone without a sound or movement.

"The walls might still be broken."

Hermione nodded, lifting her sight from the empty space between her hands. "I know. But we have to send his partner there just in case they aren't."

Malfoy looked at her, drawing his still-bleeding bottom lip into his mouth. "How do you propose we do that?"

"We'll tell him the water sent his partner there, and that he needs him there in order to get out. We'll give him the rest of the water in case they need to break the walls again. Hopefully, it will keep them gone long enough for us to get far ahead of them. Hopefully, the walls are back up and it's not only a mile from here." She shrugged, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "It's the best we can do right now."

"What if he doesn't accept?"

They both looked towards the side tunnel at a small noise, holding their breaths, but it didn't repeat itself. "We'll have to force him."

Malfoy looked at her like joining the Death Eaters had been a better plan, shoving his hair back from his face in frustration. If he had seen the man they were talking about, then she understood his lack of belief in her idea. The man was definitely bigger in mass than the two of them combined, but there were still _two_ of them. She knew they could defend themselves against him if they had to.

Hermione pulled her bag over her shoulder, waiting for a sign of movement from Malfoy, who seemed content to stay where he was. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders with a look that should have told him they had little choice, and then turned for the side tunnel. He hissed a curse under his breath, their footsteps so quiet that she didn't know he had followed until she glanced back.

She paused right before the side tunnel, readjusting her grip on the dagger. She doubted that the man would be there since he hadn't come running out at the noise or the disappearance of his partner, but preparation was better than being surprised. She waited for a few seconds, listening for any hint of a noise from the scratch of clothing to a breath, and then turned the corner quickly.

Her eyes immediately found the bulk of a body on the ground, a mass amount of blood pooled and spreading from under it. Her hand slapped over her mouth, instinct sending her back a step before she could think to do so. Her stomach turned violently and she gagged behind her hand, diverting her eyes and catching Malfoy's. He was looking back at her, his eyes less wide and panicked, and he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. _What_?

Hermione shook hers in response, her eyes traveling back against her will to the man three meters down the tunnel. His tree knot eyes were staring blankly at the ground he was lying on, face half-covered in his blood and frozen in a pained surprise. The blood was slashed in a thick arc across the wall, half of his body laying in a puddle of it. It was almost black, except for where his torch was, his fingers still bent around it, and the light shining off bright, bright red.

Her eyes barely touched upon the deep gash across his throat, but it was still enough to send her gagging again. She muttered something she didn't even understand against her palm, just a gurgle of spit and sounds. She brought her thumb and forefinger together, pressing her nose shut, to stop the metallic bite of blood's scent-taste from rolling across her tongue. Malfoy's chest pressed against her shoulder for just a second before he stepped back around the wall, away from the sight.

" _Fuck_."

The man who had tried to kill her on the mountain was definitely dead. She had been stuck between backing away and running to check for a pulse in that first second of seeing a body, but there was no question what she would find now if she tried. His partner had seemed calm when he had turned his head around the corner to look at her - he didn't look like he had just seen someone murdered in front of him, which meant it was either an illusion or...

Hermione turned, looking at Malfoy, whose eyes were just as wide and panicked as hers now, and followed the line of his arm to the hunting knife in his hand. She hadn't seen it before in the dimness, the black shapes of a body in the dark blue around them. Now, in the soft light from the other torch by her feet, she could make out the blood on the blade. Malfoy followed her eyes, the knife clanging against the ground a moment later as he released it.

The man she had initially mistaken for a possible tourist must have killed his partner. Judging by the blood across the wall, he must have cut his throat from behind him, the partner only knowing when it was too late. His calm look flashed into her mind again - how he looked normal even after he had just done that, and likely still calm with the intention to do it to her when he had been looking at her. There had been no real emotion on his face, as if he had found a can of expired food in the back of his pantry. A shiver passed down her spine at the thought of it.

She stepped forward, keeping her gaze away from the body, and bent down to pick up the torch not lying in blood. She glanced over at Malfoy when he rounded the corner, his face paler than usual, and his eyes focused intensely on hers - like if he didn't concentrate hard enough on looking at her, his eyes would move towards the body on their own command. She looked over at the bag lying a meter from them, and then aimed the torch at the wall in front of it.

There was a line of blood drawn into a large circle, with a small, straight line near the center. Hermione stared at it before glancing over at the man, only allowing her gaze to get as far as his hand. "Does that look like anything to you?"

"No," Malfoy replied, his voice sounding as faint as hers.

"It could have been the start to blood magic. He might have decided to sacrifice his partner for...some sort of spell."

"Getting ideas?"

She didn't answer, tracing the line of the circle as he walked to it, picking up the bag. "I wonder if the walls are back up. Where we sent him."

"With any luck, if that's what he does to his allies."

Hermione almost looked over again but stopped herself, her hand clenching the dagger a little harder. "If they are, we probably just sent him to his death. Even if there's someone else with him, if the walls are back up, they aren't likely to have any of the water."

"How is that a problem?"

"We don't have that right, Mal--"

"We're defending ourselves. He would have killed me and then you in seconds. If he gets out of there and finds us, he'll only try again. Tha--"

"I agree that he's dangerous, of course. While that man over there would have killed me on the mountain if he could have, the man who killed him is still a murderer. He would have killed us. He might still try. But right now, when he's defenseless and we're the ones with the weapons, we should have tried to bring him to the pol--"

"We're not in civilization, Granger. We're in the middle of a jungle. There is no law. It's survival - we didn't kill him, unlike what he would have done to us. We sent him away from his chance to try again, and if that kills him, it's not like he was a good fucking person."

Hermione shook her head, glancing at the ground. It was true, but she still didn't feel like she had the right to make that decision. They could have tried to bring him into civilization and tell the police what he had done, but it wasn't a good idea to expose themselves to the local authorities either. If they had shoved him into the police building, tied up, with a note of directions on how to get to the cave, there might be a chance that they couldn't reach the proof anyway. It was beyond that wall they passed, and Hermione wasn't sure if Muggles could even enter the part of the island she and Malfoy were on. There was also no way of telling whether the man would find a way to kill them in their sleep if they decided to drag him with them.

It was self-defense, she knew, but it didn't make for an easy decision when there wasn't the threat of a knife, gun, or wand to her face anymore. She knew it was the only real choice they had, especially with a man who would kill them in a second - who could kill his partner so easily, by surprise, and look so calm afterward. It still left a bad feeling at the pit of her stomach.

"Let's search the rest of the cave so we can get out of here."

"I could have got him off me," Malfoy said suddenly, still looking at the wall.

He seemed to have as much trouble accepting her as his ally as she did him. Whenever she helped him, he preferred to acknowledge it as little as he could, before pretending it had never happened. She didn't think he could pretend that well, judging by how weird he would get around her for a few hours or days. She understood it, though - she hated being forced to rely on him in some situations, to make him think for a second that she _needed_ him in any possible way.

She didn't think she would need him if she had her magic, but she was left with no choice in this. She was starting to adjust to, in a dangerous moment, looking over and seeing Malfoy there, but she didn't think it was something she could ever really get used to. It felt like someone had pumped the oxygen from their blood and into hers - needed, but wrong. They both hated for the other to see them weak in any way, so for them to not only see it but to be the one to save the other... It was hard to swallow. Somehow, he was having more trouble accepting this than she was. Or maybe he just hated it more.

"Maybe."

**July 14: 9:31pm**

He was glaring at her - she didn't know why, but sometimes she caught him doing that. She would be sitting there, preparing for sleep, and she would feel him staring holes through her head. Sometimes his expression was unreadable, but most times he had this sinister look on his face, like maybe he wanted to kill her before having to look at her again. Like he was blaming her for everything, or maybe just the sight of her near him made the entire situation intolerable to him. He used to do it a lot more, but she still caught him.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared back at him, not in any real sort of anger, but for revenge. It was incredibly uncomfortable to be trying to get some sleep and have someone staring you down in apparent dislike. She tried to think if she had done anything to anger him today, but she couldn't think of anything. Maybe she did something annoying in her sleep and he was somehow under the impression that his Glare of Doom was going to do something about it. He was probably just being a git, which was about as surprising as losing socks in the wash.

"You know, your eye twitches when you glare too hard. Excessive twitching leads to blindness." The last bit was not true as far as she knew, and he didn't look like he was sure about believing her either, but he stopped glaring.

**July 15; 10:12am**

The slope of the mountain wasn't as bad as others she had been forced to climb, but it was still taxing, especially in the heat. She kept telling herself she would rest in another meter, another, _one more after this_. She told herself she would sit at the top until she felt like moving again, and it would be an accomplishment to have hiked up all of it. She tried to convince herself that Floralis was there, at the peak and waiting for her. None of it helped to ease the burn in her legs, but it was enough to keep pushing past it.

The small of her back was aching, her shoulders were sore, her neck was stiff, and her sweat kept getting in her eyes. The sound of Malfoy sucking in air was starting to make her irrationally angry, and she had to keep reminding herself that he wasn't doing it on purpose. When she was in pain and forcing herself past it, she would become convinced that everything was against her - the heat, the mountain, Malfoy, the trees, the rocks, her own body - it was all there just to make everything harder for her. They had seen another of those strange animal-graveyard fire pits again, near the bottom of the mountain, which made her twitchy as she waited for something to try to attack her. She had been hoping that they had belonged to the two men from the cave, but it had looked pretty fresh.

She was also bothered by the fact that Malfoy wouldn't let her look into the bag slung over his shoulder. She had seen him go through it when they had left the cave the other day, so she saw what was in it: two water bottles, a flask, sunglasses, binoculars, and a red marker. She just wasn't positive that was all of it, especially when he was carrying it with him just to go to the loo. Picking it up from the ground hadn't made it his - they had both found it, and they had both stopped that man from killing them. _Her_ more than him, so if it was going to belong to _anyone_ now, it would be hers.

He had kept the hunting knife too, leaving him with two good weapons and her with a quill. If one of them was going to be trusted with any sharp objects, it should be her...though, she supposed, Malfoy saw that in the exact opposite way. He was a...a _squirrel_. He _ferreted_ out things, and then _squirreled_ them away. He was a _little creature_. Well, he had another thing coming if he thought she wasn't going to get a look in that bag. She might even take that hunting knife while he was sleeping too. She wasn't going to be left to her quill defenses, or worse, _his_ defenses.

"Where did you get that dagger, anyway?" He gave her a slightly bewildered look at the harshness in her tone. It probably seemed sudden after not speaking to one another for over three hours, but he should have known why, anyway. No one could do that many annoying things without knowing about it.

"Does it matter?"

"You stole it." She didn't know if this was true enough to turn it into a statement, but she had watched him study it sometimes, in a way that either meant it held a lot of memories for him, or he hadn't looked at it that much before he bought it.

He shot her an agitated look. "I wouldn't call it stealing."

"I would." She had no idea if she would, but accusation could lead to confession.

"The house was abandoned. I saw you shoving shit into your bag just like I was."

Hermione gave a hard look to the branch that hit her arm, her eyebrows drawn together in thought. "The house before we came here?"

She had lost nearly everything in the sea, but she still had one book from the house, which was under a Shrinking Charm. She gave a curious look towards his-- the bag bouncing off his hip, wondering if she could read with those binoculars. She was not above trying.

"Well?" she pushed.

"Yes," he snapped, which meant he was learning it was better to answer her. Finally.


	18. Part Eighteen

**July 16; 12:42pm**

Walking downhill was a lot easier than walking uphill, except when the day decided to attempt suffocation by way of humidity. She had read somewhere that it required more muscles to go down than it did to go up, but she would have to check up on that when she got home. Her muscles weren't burning as much as they had yesterday, and she was sure the sweat was thick enough to be packing on extra weight.

_God_ , she hadn't even known it was _possible_ to sweat this much. She was dripping with it, her clothes soaking through, and her hair wet. She hated sweating. Some people liked it because it made them feel they were getting a real workout, but Hermione just felt like a fat blob of gross messiness. She was sure she must sweat more than normal people did, because half the water in her body felt like it was flowing through her skin. She had tried to keep wiping it away this morning, hating the slickness and the smell, and being self-conscious of Malfoy looking over and finding her a moving ball of nasty liquid. It had worked for an hour, but then her skin kept getting redder and hotter, and there was no stopping the flood. She finally gave into it with an angry acceptance that there was no other option.

She didn't know why her body wasn't attempting moderation, though - she didn't have the water supply to be sweating it all out like this. She wanted to push it back into her skin while giving several stern, disapproving looks to her body's self-sabotage. She couldn't keep _hydrated_ like this. Not when sips of water could only be taken when completely desperate.

Malfoy had taken his shirt off an hour ago, shoving the drenched fabric into the bag he was carrying. She had glared at him for less than a minute, before it felt like too much energy to even bother. If he weren't there, she would have stripped down to her underwear two hours ago. It was too hot for things like clothes, or hair, or _movement_. She couldn't even look at the line of his red, shiny back because it only made her more overheated. It was like being boiling hot and seeing someone in a jumper - it made the heat increase like you were wearing one too, and all you could wonder was if the person was from _Africa_ or had any sort of logical reasoning beyond being a loon.

A tree root was her downfall. She was trying to wipe the sweat away from her eyes before they started burning again, and then her trainer caught. She was so wiped out that she barely even _tried_ to do that awkward, useless, instinctual movement that people did upon falling face first - jerking back like a body convulsion, while your legs tried fruitlessly to catch up and your arms grew a mind of their own. She had just a split second to register that she was going down, and she accepted it as fate in that same moment.

Her forearms caught her before her face could break open, her pinkie bending oddly against the ground. She cried out as the movement of her broken knuckles threatened to turn the bones to dust, shutting her eyes as her face screwed up. She brought her hand down to her shoulder with a pained whine, and turned her face to rest her cheek on the cooler ground.

"I'm dying." She heard a clunk and then the shift of wet fabric, though she didn't know what Malfoy was doing in her dying state.

"Promises, promises."

She was just trying to _breathe_ , and maybe the oxygen could do something to cool her body down. She needed some water, like an entire lake, to submerge herself in and drink until her stomach threatened to burst. Every pull of air felt like a wind of fire down to her lungs, and with all that water she had sweated, she was probably dry as bone inside. She was like a rotted tree in some otherwise barren landscape, and if her breathing kept up this heat, she might set ablaze. She wondered if that was how people combusted. She was just going to explode, already cooked up for Malfoy.

Bastard. There was no way she was going to make it that easy. She hoped she tasted like burnt, dried-out turkey. No, not turkey - something inedible. Bats? Were bats edible?

She opened her eyes, moving her head enough to see Malfoy collapsed on the ground as well. He was on his back, his stomach moving in quick breaths and his arms splayed out. She couldn't see him that well in the grass, but he looked like he might be dying as well. "Do you think we can roll the rest of the way down?"

He lifted up on his elbows for just a second, looking down the mountain slope before falling back. "Too many trees."

**July 17; 5:32pm**

Hermione did not smell pleasant. In fact, she would say she smelt rancid. She was sticky with days of old sweat on her dirt-stained skin, her scalp was itchy, and she tried to lift her arms as little as possible. She also tried to avoid walking too closely to Malfoy so he wouldn't smell her, and so she wouldn't smell him either. They kept several meters of distance between themselves, and she could go ten minutes before catching sight of him again. He looked like he was going to stab anything to death if it came within arm reach.

She felt disgusting and moody, and rubbing her skin with fragrant flowers last night had only worked like a perfume until she started sweating again this morning. The bananas she'd eaten today had given her a stomachache, she was in a constant state of thirst, and she and Malfoy had alternated between snipes, yelling, and silence since they woke up. She was trying to ignore all things dealing with reality, but it was stronger than her imagination at the moment.

**July 18; 8:01pm**

She moved towards the noise she had thought was Malfoy, wondering if she should suggest stopping for the night, but found someone else entirely. She pulled up short when she spotted the person through a gap in the trees, squinting at the side of his face before she recognized him. She grinned, too caught off guard by his familiarity to remember her old caution, and took a step towards Bill, the man they had met in the clearing. Her foot was lifting in the second when a hand clenched over her mouth, an arm wrapping around her waist to jerk her back.

Hermione let out the start of a squeal but the hand only pressed harder, her eyes popping over the foreign fingers as she reached one hand up and threw her elbow back. There was a deep, heavy breath against her cheek, but it wasn't until the faint hush sounded against the back of earlobe that she realized who it was.

Malfoy's heat seeped from his chest and into her back, his sweat-dampened shirt sticking to her own, but she didn't have time to analyze how she felt about that. Her eyes had focused on Bill again, and she was suddenly very aware of why Malfoy had stopped her. She dropped her hand from its attempt to peel off Malfoy's, wrapping her fingers around his wrist to squeeze out some of the fear that bubbled inside her chest.

Bill's mouth was the first thing she noticed with the blood smeared around it, and his teeth were the most defining difference in him since she had last seen him. They were bigger, shaped to sharp points in a wider mouth - they were animal teeth, his lips stretching back over them as he grinned down at something. She noticed the unlit fire pit he was seated in front of next, the stacked rocks reminding her of the little animal graveyards she had encountered.

Malfoy's hand wrapped around her hip, his arm bunching against her stomach as he pulled them back a step. She barely noticed, too caught up in the sight before her as Bill pulled a rabbit from his lap. His nails were long, pointed, claws. She must have made some sort of noise, Malfoy's fingers pressing so hard against her mouth that she should have been worried about him dislodging her teeth. His lips touched the back of her ear again, his breath hot and pushed into a hiss of warning. He stayed there, his breath like a wind inside her ear as he backed them up another step.

Bill raised the rabbit to his mouth, and Hermione couldn't look away despite knowing where this was going. Her heart was thumping painfully, her hand pressing back into Malfoy's thigh so she could grab the dagger quickly if she needed to. He would be too slow, his hand still on her mouth, while the arm closest to the dagger and his bag was wrapped around her to the opposite side. She would pull it if she had to - even a look in their direction, and she would pull it.

The rabbit was struggling against Bill's grip, and she watched his fingers draw in to keep a hold on it, red blossoming across the grey fur as the animal made panicked, pained noises. Bill buried his face against the fur, dragging his nose up the body, and Hermione could see his tongue roll out to lick up to the neck. Malfoy led them back another step, another, another, their feet moving quicker, and his breath growing louder.

She snapped her eyes shut just a second after Bill sunk his teeth into the neck of the frantic animal, blood spurting out across his cheek. Hermione's stomach turned violently, her brow wrinkling as the image burned itself into her mind. Malfoy's hand loosened the death grip over her mouth, either sensing the possible sickness, or feeling the way his skin was pulled between her lips as she tried to suck in air. Her own grip on his wrist didn't loosen any, and she could feel his heart thumping wildly against her fingertips. His mouth pressed harder to the back of ear, a rush of hissed _sh, sh, sh_ in his panic, though he was making more noise than she was. They jerked to a halt, Malfoy's breath pushing out in a gasp as she felt his stomach cave in, her eyes popping open. She couldn't see Bill through the trees anymore, but she could still hear him _eating_. Malfoy's thigh tensed under her palm as he moved them to the side and back, around the tree he had bumped into, the hissed hushes starting up again.

Malfoy's arm fell away from her waist, his wrist turning under her fingertips as he twisted it around to grab hers as well. He yanked her, forcing her to spin with him, and she tripped into a run behind him. She flung her free arm out wildly, shoving aside branches as they pushed off Malfoy and whipped into her skin, but she didn't care. They just had to _go, go, go_ _._

**July 19; 2:38am**

The adrenaline had kept her going on their long run, along with Malfoy's grip on her wrist threatening to dislocate her arm if she lagged too far behind his sprint. When they had finally slowed down and released one another, the adrenaline had even stretched on another hour while they walked. Then it had turned into dust, which was a problem when that happened to have been _hours_ ago. Hermione was entering the dreamlike state of exhaustion - her head heavy, her sight blurry and strange, and an odd sort of numbness taking over her body, like she was inflated. She felt like her skin was sagging, her thoughts obscure, and there were deep cramps in her calves and back.

They kept walking.

**8:01am**

Her eyes were burning, her body was sore, and her head was dizzy - too much exertion followed by too little sleep. The mounting dehydration and lack of vitamins wasn't helping either. She ran her thumb and forefinger over her eyelids, bringing them in to pinch the bridge of her nose. She had fallen asleep to twilight and had woken when the sun was barely over the top of the trees, which wasn't enough sleep by half.

Malfoy was up in one of the trees, scanning with the binoculars. She was guessing he had found a way to work them when she hadn't been paying attention, because he had looked completely confused with their existence when he first pulled them from the bag. He was probably looking for any hint of Bill or smoke, though she didn't think they had been followed. They had passed another fire pit in the middle of the night, older, with the skeletons collapsed to piles of bones, which meant Bill had already traveled that way. Hermione doubted Bill would be turning back unless he had spotted them, and if he had, he would have found them by now.

There wasn't a way to really be sure, though. Bill, or whatever it was, could have just been part of the magic on the island, or some screwed up creature-human hybrid she had never read about. He might not have a set destination in mind, which meant he could very well turn back in a direction he had already gone.

She knew that the magic didn't affect some people, but she still didn't know if it would be Muggles or just everyone who wasn't looking for the plant. The magic had affected Bill - it could have been because he was a magical creature or because he was looking for the plant as well. He was obviously intelligent, so it wasn't impossible. He had either somehow hid his true nature in the clearing, or a worse possibility - something had turned him into that after he had left. There had been other fire pits, but those could have been made by him before he got stuck with them, or by something else like him. There might be something magical out there that had the power to do that to them.

If he had somehow hid his real identity in the clearing, she didn't know why he hadn't attacked them. Maybe he only had an interest in animals, like tearing out the neck of rabbits in the image she still couldn't erase. Or he had been relying on them to get him out as well, so he had decided not to try killing them. Or he had been too put off by the sight of Malfoy's dagger.

She couldn't know anything about it as a definite, beyond knowing that he was not human. She knew in her gut that she didn't want to get anywhere near him again, and that if he showed up, even looking normal, she would pull out one of the knives in a second. The rest was just speculation, which meant that Hermione thought about it until she had figured out every possibility and listed them in a logical order. Which meant she had grown increasingly angry since she could begin to process at all last night, and she wished for a library so she could have a chance at facts.

"You like climbing trees a lot, don't you?" she asked when Malfoy's feet hit the ground, but her tone suggested she was really asking about how much he liked destroying people's lives.

He gave her a look like the day had already been too long, rubbing the dirt and pieces of bark from his palms. "I grew up in the country."

"Oh."

He raised an eyebrow, adjusting the bag on his shoulder, and picking his robe off the ground. "Are you ready to go or did you want to find more things to bitch about first?"

She sent him her best dirty look, picking up her bag and making sure her laces were tied on her trainers. "First, I'd like to start on your possession of both knives. I think--"

He groaned and she followed after his quick steps, continuing her very long, logical reasoning behind sharing, but he only ignored her anyway.

**1:28pm**

"Why are you looking for the plant?"

Malfoy's hand paused from moving the light of the torch down the crevice, making sure it wasn't just a very narrow opening to something else. He pulled his head back from looking into the crack, switching off the torch before dropping it into his bag. "I want to heal people."

She stared at him, almost positive that he was lying, but tried to keep the disbelief from her voice. "You want to _heal_ people?"

Sometimes he did that to her - seriously said something that didn't make sense to who she thought he was. It was like he was testing her to see if she would start making assaults on his character or actually believe him. Most times she jumped straight into the assaults, but she was trying to get better at that for a more peaceful partnership. There was also a part of her that wanted to maybe give him a chance - the part of her that stuck around after life or death situations.

He looked bored but his left eyebrow was twitching, as if he was indecisive on raising it or holding back an expression, but his eyebrow didn't get the memo from his brain. "Yes. I'm determined to save the world, Granger. I might even buy a cape. Perhaps a lightening bolt sticker, or a bushy wig. I draw the line at freckles. I suppose that's what you want to do, isn't it?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"When you look like a spotted--"

"That I want the plant to help people."

His bag knocked off a tree as they started around the mountain again, and he pushed it so it was resting on his back. "No. It's just predictable."

She looked over at him, pushing a branch out of her way. "Is that bad? It's--"

He grinned, and she might have looked too closely at it since the side of her head thudded off the next branch. "It's like watching a tree, Granger. You--"

She smacked him in the arm and he laughed at her.

**July 20; 10:08am**

All they heard was flowing water before their angry, bone-weary dispositions turned into the excitement of children. For her, at least, though she was betting Malfoy was excited as well. She had three sips of water since yesterday morning, and her body was on the verge of collapse if she didn't fill it all up. Fill it up until she couldn't even _move_ and had to pee every ten seconds.

He broke through the line of trees first, but she didn't see him pull to an abrupt stop until she had passed out of the trees as well. She leaned back, pulling her arms back as well, but her legs were still going with her momentum for a few hard steps before she could stop them without falling flat. Malfoy was clearing his throat behind her, from the awkwardness or the sudden hard knowledge at just how dirty they were.

She could see seven people staring back at them, eyes wide and shocked in their silence. A woman dropped her fishing pole before shoving down the wildly pointing finger of a little boy. All of them looked clean, distinctly Muggle, and very confused as to why two people just sprinted out of the forest looking like they had never known civilization or a shower. She was very aware of her torn and stained clothes, the dirt streaks and smudges on her skin, and the state of her hair.

Her eyes darted towards a distantly familiar sound as she tried to smooth out her shirt, and she found a teenager lowering his mobile phone. She changed her mind on giving them all a reassuring smile and glared at their gawking instead. He had just taken a picture of them like they were in a _zoo_ or something. She sniffed, pushing stray curls behind her ears, and turned on her heel. Malfoy was sneering at them down the line of his nose and turned as well, both of them walking back into the trees.

"We'll just go up more, until we don't see any people."

He was silent and glowering, reminding her of when they had walked to the antique shop with the hair slide and everyone had stared hatefully at them. She didn't know what was worse - everyone staring because they thought you were the scum of the earth, or because you looked like it.

**11:03am**

Hermione laughed, only slightly delirious from her first gulp of water. Malfoy paused an arm's length from her, his water bottle hovering millimeters from his mouth as he looked over at her. One of them always filled a water bottle before taking a sip, just in case. She waved her hand and shook her head to let him know there wasn't anything in the water, still laughing as she filled up her own bottle.

"I was just thinking what my reaction would have been if two people came trampling out of the woods looking like we do. I mean, they were just on a fishing trip, so we must have looked like crazy people."

She didn't know if the saying _we'll laugh about this later_ ever applied to Malfoy. His expression was stoic as he turned his eyes away from her and started guzzling water, but it didn't stop her from finding it an amusing thought. She closed her eyes as she raised the water bottle to her lips, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat, and in her head she could see it filling up all the empty places where it was supposed to go.

The last person they had seen along the river had been almost a mile back, but it still wasn't safe to bathe. They would have to wait for the night and another couple miles before they could be fairly certain no one would see them. She would try to fish first, she figured. Dunk herself down as far as she could go until she couldn't feel the scorching sun upon her skin any longer. It was going to be glorious. It was going to be like coming home, or hot chocolate in December under a blanket, or reading in a thunderstorm.

She was huffing for air when the water bottle was empty, feeling a little dizzy and the start of a stomachache, but she didn't care. It was like she couldn't get enough of it - like she might drink up the entire river before she could be fully satisfied. She twisted from her knees until she was sitting, reaching down to pull the laces from their bow before she decided that pulling the whole trainer off would be less time consuming.

Malfoy had a trouser leg rolled up to above his ankle before he seemed to agree with her on just jumping in. She blinked down at his bare feet, wondering if she could count all the bones that existed in them just by looking. It was a slight exaggeration, but he had _skeleton_ feet. She was surprised she hadn't broken anything during any foot stomping when he didn't appear to have much meat on the things. Delicate bones, veins, long toes that would seriously help him with all that tree climbing if he ever took his shoes off, and a big toe that might have to be renamed _giant_ toe.

She might have been slightly fascinated with them when he started to walk, but he didn't notice. It was not like she ever paid much attention to feet, or looks in general, but they were sort of hard to miss when they looked like a poster in a podiatrist's office. She could just see the little lines coming off them with names at the end.

She remembered her mission for complete submergence when his feet disappeared into the water, and she pulled off her socks before standing. The river was wide, but even if it only went to her ankles in depth, she would just lay there rolling over and over like a seal. Or she would dig in deep and Malfoy could make all the animal references he wanted, but she wouldn't care because it would just be his jealousy from forcing himself not to do the same.

She ran into the river, which really looked like a lot of stomping on her part. Malfoy turned his head to give her a dirty look for splashing water on him, as if it wasn't his intention in the first place. She couldn't hear him over her splashing, but she saw him moving forward before she passed him, aiming for the middle of the river before she dunked.

She was almost there, water to her hips, when she noticed how much the current had picked up. She was very close to ignoring it, one single goal in her mind, but then it started pushing her hard enough that she had to walk sideways so she didn't fall.

"That's weird," she muttered, backing up a step, and logic hit her like a brick to the back of her head. Anything that started to happen on this island that she felt the need to comment on the strangeness of could not possibly be good.

She tried to turn, her body becoming that sort of stiffness that happened when all your brain was shouting was _go fast, go fast, faster_ , before you fully realized where you were going and what was happening. She could only make a half turn back without the speed of the water swiping her feet out, and it shoved her forward until she had to push back with all her strength to not fall or have her legs pushed up from underneath her. Malfoy must have tried to turn as well, his back to her as they attempted pushing back to the riverbank, but the current was too strong. Every step to the side she tried to make turned into a step forward from the pressure, and she was now _running_ forward without making it a single step sideways.

She looked for a branch, or vine, or _something_ to hold onto, but there was nothing. Her feet were mostly propelled by the pressure, and it was all she could do to shove them back down to the ground with every step. The rushing sound of the water grew loud enough to drown out her heartbeat, the pressure doubled against her, and she was lost. It flung her legs up like they were balloons in the wind, and the river dragged her under.

She tried to kick down, throwing her arms back and under and throwing her body up. Her head emerged for just a second, just long enough for a gasp of breath before her mouth filled with water. She flipped over, opening her eyes to raging white water, and pushed with more muscle than she knew she had to get her body sideways and to the riverbank. She didn't know if she was moving at all, nothing to see but white and hints of blue around her.

The need in her lungs began to burn hot, and she flipped over again, shoving herself up, up. She could see the blue of the sky before she was pulled under again, and she flailed harder, her body looking close to convulsions. There were only two things in all of her mind - the absolute need to break the surface, and the seemingly impossible task of doing so. But Hermione was not a quitter, not usually, and she kept trying furiously until her head finally broke through again.

She didn't stop throwing her arms and legs back like she had the first time, too caught up in breathing as she had been, and dragged in long, gasping lung-fulls of oxygen. She choked and coughed on the water she sucked in too, but it was so secondary that it was irrelevant. She kept her neck stiff and above the water line, spinning her arms in an attempt to propel her body back to her feet. Malfoy was almost directly in front of her, but she couldn't know if she had moved over or he had. His head was dipping in and out of the water, large waves splashing up from his struggling arms.

She saw the side of the mountain then, a stone wall they were speeding towards with no way of stopping. It took her a second to see the opening over the water and foam, an arc of a hole just rising over the water line. She sucked in a breath, bringing a mouthful of water down with it, and it burned and squeezed in her throat. The river pulled her head back under as she coughed violently, trying to drag in another breath directly after despite how much she was protesting her instincts. Water burst down the passageway instead, seizing up her throat and lungs. Her head pounded painfully and she lost her sense of placement for a moment, feeling like her body was flooding with water, shutting down the parts she needed for life.

She crashed into something, something that _gave_ as her body pushed up against it. She could feel herself slipping deeper, slick silk against her skin followed by billowing material, and she reached out to clutch. She didn't really mean to pull Malfoy down, but it was a call for survival that had her doing it before she could think to stop. She was in the middle of drowning, of maybe dying, and she shoved him down to push herself up. It was a desperation beyond thought, for breath, for life, and using the only thing she could to obtain it. There was a basic, selfish core in the soul and instinct of every person, and it screamed for self when the mind shut down and emotions were lost.

It wasn't until his body moved forward that she realized they had been resisting the current for a moment. She broke the surface, her hands clamped around his shoulders, and coughed so hard on the breath she took that she thought her insides might explode. She sucked in another, the world dim and bursts of black across her irises, but she could still see Malfoy's hands at the top of the opening. It was the only part of him that was visible over the water, and his fingers were slipping.

She shoved against the current trying to sweep her under straight, pushing her legs out twice before her foot pressed against rock instead of water. Malfoy lost all of his grip as she punched her arms under his, wrapping them around his chest as he shot forward. She took the brunt of the water pressure for both of them, her leg shaking madly as she used it to shove back. Her shoulders were straining with Malfoy's weight, pain shooting up to her temples as her grip began to slide.

She wasn't sure what happened, but she thought she had pulled him back enough for him to catch his palms against the top of the opening again. He slid back hard, over her, his body pushing hers under the water. She only saw darkness as he blotted out the sun, her face touching skin as her arms slid down to his stomach. She could feel it rise and fall as he breathed, tightening as his body tensed and heaved.

She kept her grip on him in case she lost her own, throwing her other leg out to look for something solid. Every time his stomach expanded with breath she grew more angry and desperate, but emotions fled again when he suddenly shoved up. She almost slipped out from underneath him and into the darkness of the hole, which she knew without analyzing was nota place she wanted to go. She knew this was their last chance to get out of whatever was happening, but as her knee buckled and Malfoy rose higher above her, it felt like she was losing the fight.

Malfoy had pulled upright, his legs still being pushed into the hole, and she looked up with spotted vision from the bottom of his back. She felt like she was going to pass out, but she raged against it, her whole body shaking as she locked her leg straight against the wall. She pushed her arms up, feeling cold air against her fingers, and then a blockade of skin and stone.

She pulled a panicked hand from Malfoy, feeling along the curve of the tunnel. She was trying to frantically decide if she should let go of him and try to catch herself on the rock, if her grip would be enough within that split second, when she felt something dig along the skin of her arm. His hand reached under her upper arm, squeezing so hard that something popped, and she was wrenched upwards. The movement dislodged her foot from the rock, and she was slammed into Malfoy's back, his hand flying away from her.

If she had breath, she would have screamed out into the water, but she flung her hand forward instead, feeling her palm smack off stone. She didn't know if he was being dragged down, she was moving up, or both. She kicked out her legs for something solid again and then his hand was back, tugging her up hard until she surfaced.

For several wild moments, she thought her lungs had stopped working, and when she managed to breathe, she still didn't _feel_ it. Her hand slid up rock until her forearm was pressed against it, her forehead burrowed into the space between Malfoy's shoulder blades, and she _gaspgaspgasped_. Her chest hurt from swallowing all of that water, and maybe from the rate of her heartbeat. Her mind turned dark, the world spun, and she was a second away from blacking out before the oxygen finally _did_ something.

Malfoy yanked her other arm off of him, and they slipped for a second before her hand touched rock. She slid it up until her forearm was pressed to it, and she shoved her trembling arms against the rock, lifting herself up more. Her vision slowly began to clear, the world slowing down its furious spinning, and she dragged up a very heavy head.

Malfoy's entire torso was plastered to the wall as much as she was to his back, both of them with their forearms pushing against it. She could feel his legs on either side of hers, in the tunnel and still trapped in the current. The only things saving them from being pulled under was that most of their weight was against the rock, and the constant dig of their arms against it to keep themselves there. If it had been her that managed to pull up first, and Malfoy who gripped her from under, they both would have been taken. Malfoy was struggling for breath, crushed as he was, and she still hadn't had enough.

She was afraid to move, afraid that the smallest slip or wrong choice would send both of them into that tunnel. She didn't think it was coincidence that they had somehow been lined up with it - if they had hit the rock feet first, they might have broken or hurt something, but they would have been fine. The magic was trying to send them somewhere, and _somewhere_ was not where they wanted to be. They had to get away from the hole, and once they did, they could use the wall to keep them upright as they moved to the riverbank.

She couldn't get enough oxygen in general, so even thinking of telling him her plan felt like too much effort. She slid her forearm across the wall as far as she could reach, yanking the other to pull it quickly around Malfoy's head before snapping it back against the rock. He turned his head to look at her, his mouth and nose pressing to the spot right above her elbow as he breathed harshly. She pulled herself to the side, off of his back, and dragged her legs with her. She had to push-pull with her forearms to get her torso completely out of the water and against the wall, sliding one arm out as far as it would go before pushing herself across again.

Malfoy followed her example, both of them push-sliding four more times before she stopped. The side of her thigh had hit sharp rock, and she knew she had found the edge of the hole. She released a heavy breath, groaning as she pushed as hard as she could with her arms and pulled her legs back. She got her knee against the wall before she dragged herself to the side, using her knee for an extra push, and brought her other knee up as well.

She paused for a moment, sucking in a couple breaths, and pulled herself across again. She completely cleared the hole, shoving her feet down to find solid ground beneath them. She pushed up until she was standing, the water to her waist and the pressure shoving her flat against the wall.

"Please," Malfoy wheezed, "take your sweet fucking time."

She didn't have the breath to spare in telling him off, or the energy to glare. She reached out a hand instead, offering to help pull him away from the hole, but he barely even glanced at it. She brought it back to the wall, shoving her foot out to step sideways, and yanking the other to follow. The current was so strong that she was having trouble pulling in a breath, as if it were squeezing her lungs all up into little compact balls. Each step felt like her legs were wrapped in weights and being pushed by a car, her calves straining and her thighs trembling.

She paused within an arm's length to Malfoy, making sure that he pulled himself fully in front of the wall instead of shooting like a rocket into the tunnel. He gave her only one death look, probably from staring, but it wasn't like she was doing it just to watch him struggle - she knew he had been staring at her when she did it too. She had felt him breathing on her.

He got past it on his own, the effort proved in the chords rising from his neck and arms before he stood. There were eight more steps until she reached land, and she dragged out the number of each step in her head as she took them. It helped her push past the pain in her legs, reminding herself that she was going somewhere, that she was _almost there, almost there_. Just a little more and she could lie there and not move for days. Just a little more and she once again beat the magic.

The water was to her calves when the current suddenly slowed. She paused, looking down at the water that had been spraying up at her and was now just a gentle pressure against her aching muscles. Malfoy began hissing a string of curses and rude remarks, but since they were towards the water and not her, she wholeheartedly agreed. He pushed a hand into her back to get her walking again, and she leaped forward, ignoring the ache that flared until she was two steps onto solid ground.

She hit her knees, bending her head to the earth and just _breathed_. Her stomach was turning, her body was burning, but she was _out of the water_. She was on the ground, she was safe, and she had won. Malfoy took a step past her before she heard him fall as well, his quick breaths matching hers. She felt her muscles slowly easing, her lungs gaining back normal expansion, and she stared bitterly at the water dripping from her hair. That was certainly not what she meant by complete submergence.

"Healing people bullshit."

"What?"

"Saint Granger, and not a hesitation in trying to drown me."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like you didn't almost drown me as well."

"If you hadn't wrapped yourself around me, it wouldn't have been a problem."

"You were the only thing stopping me from--"

"And then nearly sent me into the abyss when you crashed into me, when you tried to drown me, and when--"

"I pulled you back from going through!"

"Which you wouldn't have needed to if--"

"Well, if you weren't there, I could have stopped myself with the wall as well, so it's hardly my fault. If it had happened with us in switched positions--"

"We would have been fucked."

She raised her eyebrows, shoving her hair back when she couldn't see him through it. "To put it not so delicately."

"We almost died. _Again_. There shouldn't be anything delicate about it."

He was leaning against a tree, his shirt sticking to him like a second skin and his face flushed. She met his eyes, reaching down to rub her legs. "What do you think it leads to?"

He looked over her head to the tunnel and shrugged a shoulder. "Why don't you go look while I go and grab the bags?"

Hermione groaned, looking up along the river to try and see how far they would have to walk back. "I wish I had a bicycle. No, a--"

"Broom." He got to his skeleton feet, raking his fingers through his hair.

"What happened to yours?" She knew he had flown it towards the island when he left her on the boat going there, but she hadn't seen it since.

He gave her a long look that she couldn't read before swinging his gaze back up the river. Hermione pushed herself to stand, shaking out her legs as she wondered... She looked up at him, a hint of a smile on her lips as she cocked her head in question. He continued to stare at the river, but the side glance he gave her was enough of an answer. He scowled when she burst into laughter.

"You...you-- It broke, didn't it? Shattered? How far did you drop? Oh, come on - how far?" She followed as he stalked away, still laughing.

**July 22; 5:33am**

Malfoy was standing several meters from her when she woke up, a warm breeze blowing the faint scent of her shampoo into her face. They hadn't dared getting deeper than their ankles after they escaped the current, but some sort of washing had been in order once dark hit and they couldn't see one another. She still didn't feel completely clean, but there would be other rivers or rainstorms.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she stood, bending back as little pops sounded off up her spine. Malfoy was standing a little too close to the edge of the cliff, especially for someone who had looked like seven meters wasn't enough of a safety distance when they lain down last night. Like he went on long rolling sprees in his sleep or something. She didn't think he even moved - the few times she had woken up before him, she found him in the exact position he had lain down in. He also must have been a fairly light sleeper since he seemed to wake up before her or every time she woke up to pee.

She walked over to stand beside him, taking a deep breath of morning air at the sight before them. Red and orange colored the sky, the sun just beginning to peak over the lush green hills, some of them turned purple from their blanket of heather. There was a valley below them, washed in a sea of every color from the flowers, and spotted with olive trees. There was a single house at the base of a hill, a donkey tied to a post next to a stack of firewood.

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah."

She glanced over at him, his face turned golden. "Most people prefer sunsets, but I've always loved sunrises more. A new day, a new-- What?"

There was a small lift to the corner of his mouth, seconds away from forming into a smirk. "You're weird, Granger."

She sniffed, crossing her arms. Her mum once told her it was a subconscious action to protect herself, but her dad had snorted and said it was just her temper. She didn't know why she thought about that every time she did it. "Because I like the symbolization behind sunrises?"

He huffed a laugh. "For a lot of reasons."

Silence filled up the space between them. It was the first time she could remember them being silent and still without it being awkward. From the sunrise, maybe - it was hard to feel awkward when everything else was so completely peaceful. For just a few seconds it was easy to forget what they were doing here, what they were facing, and why it being the two of them was supposed to be wrong. How it felt wrong to think maybe it wasn't that wrong after all, not anymore, after they hadn't failed one another yet...at least in this. In the strange world of post-war.

She still wished he was Harry or Ron. She didn't think she could be blamed for that.

"Some might say you don't like sunsets because you don't like finality. The end."

"I didn't say that I didn't like sunsets." But she was thinking about it anyway - how she felt about the endings - and maybe he had a point, depending on the situation.

That was everyone, though. That was the last cup of coffee before work, leaving school, growing up, or people you care about lying dead in the Great Hall. Good endings were few and far between, and sometimes you got strange ones. Ones like the end of a war, where you weren't sure how to feel at all. Where you were stuck in a devastated sort of crying while trying to smile, and then you were just numb and standing stupidly because everything became too much to process.

"Mm," he hummed. "If you get the plant, would you bring anyone back?"

"No."

He looked over at her for the first time that day, and she glanced at him long enough to see his tongue skating over the tops of his teeth. "That was quick."

"It's not like I haven't thought about it - knowing what the plant does. But...that's not supposed to be my choice. Call it God, or fate, or whatever you might believe, but I don't think that's something we should mess with. Even if we can, it doesn't mean we should. Who knows if they would have even wanted to come back."

"I don't think many people are happy to die, Granger, for your cause or not."

"No, but we don't know what it's like...after. Maybe it's nothing, or... We don't even know what they'll come back _as_ , or if they'll be the same person. Resurrecting a human soul - it's not meant to be done. Just because you have the power to kill millions doesn't mean you should. Just because you have the power to bring anyone back-- It would never amount to anything good. Not ever. No matter how much I miss them."

He was silent for a moment, his hands slipping into his pockets. "Healing people - that's all you would do with it?"

"I... Maybe." He had a knowing look on his face, and she didn't appreciate it. "It's not like I would try to take over the world. I'm just sure it has other positive uses."

"That depends entirely on the hands it falls into."

"My own."

"And the Ministry, who might turn it into some potion for the public, who would extract that ingredient until they had enough--"

"There would be laws," she argued, but she knew it sounded nave before his look told her so.

"Far more people are going to have access to it than you alone. And power - no matter your own beliefs on what should or shouldn't be done - cannot be controlled."

She gave him a searching look, and he met it stoically. "Is this _your_ attempt at convincing me it's better in your hands? You still haven't--"

"I seem to know you better than you think I do."

She looked at him for a moment before turning her head forward, both of them watching the sun rise over the hills.


	19. Part Nineteen

**2:09pm**

"Do you know what I find interesting?"

Malfoy glanced down at his watch, and she didn't know if it was habit, he forgot it was broken, or if he did it for effect. "I only have another hundred years or so before I die. Better make it quick."

"When we came out of the forest yesterday, and those people saw us? It made me think of these stories I've heard in the papers about people who live their entire lives in the jungle. It doesn't happen very often, but one day a person just comes walking into civilization. And they don't know language, or things like social decorum, or clothes, or even things like - self-esteem, shame--"

"If you're going to suggest we start walking around nak--"

She gave him a disapproving look. "The sight of you naked would likely be the final push into madness."

"I'm not sure what books you've read, Granger, but that's usually somewhere near the beginning."

"Wh--"

"Though, I'm glad you're acknowledging how much you're teetering on the edge. D--"

"Anyway," Hermione said loudly over him, unwilling to further discuss her mental stability. "It makes me think about the soul. This very thing that makes up who we are, and how in these people, it is _unlearned_. For us, who we are is shaped by society. There are some things that are base, but it's mostly buried. We learn who we are through language, social interaction, books, parents, money--"

"Etcetera," he drawled, as if she was going to carry on for twenty minutes.

She glared at him, hating to be interrupted, though he did it often enough. "I just wonder what is closer to a true self. If these people even recognize a _self_ until they are in society and have something to compare it to. Or if we don't fully recognize our true self until we compare it to them - without all the rubbish--"

"It's the same thing, Granger." She stared at him until he gave an exasperated sigh and kept talking. "There are a lot of different ways that people are raised, and a lot of different events in people's lives that shape them. Society or not, we all have different _selves_. You put two people in the jungle who have never known civilization, and they are going to be different people. They encounter different animals, or problems, or food, or weather. You put us in the jungle, and we're going to be different people too."

"But we already are different people. From--"

"Exactly. A tiger jumps out, right? A tiger jumps out in front of one of these jungle people who have dealt with them their entire lives, so they know how to fight it, and they aren't afraid. It jumps out in front of another jungle person, who has never seen it before, and that person is going to run. A tiger jumps out now, in front of us, and I'm going to see if I can run first. You would probably stay and try to pet it--"

"I wouldn't go that far--"

"Or, it's war," he cut in, and he didn't look at her when she turned her eyes to him. "A war jumps out in front of us, and our selves formed by society, and all those things you listed. All those differences that made us separate people. And you're going to run at it like it's the purpose of your life. And I... We already know that story, Granger.

"It doesn't matter where you put people, or _what_ they know - it only matters that they know different things. Society, or a jungle, it's all the same in the end. We're shaped into these people, into these selves. There is no such thing as a true or false one, just the lives that got us there. The only thing that makes these jungle people truly different from us is that they don't have to look at other people and see where they went wrong. See what makes them a _bad_ person - because nothing does outside of society."

"Or to see what makes them a good person. There--"

"Yeah. Or that."

She glanced over at him, running her fingers up and down the strap of her bag as she cleared her throat. "Well... There are mistakes, as well, that form who we are. And, you know, there isn't always one way or the other. Some people aren't really good, and some aren't really bad, and it's a bit grey. As long as we learn from poor choices, and... Bad mistakes don't always make bad people. They don't tend to make good people either, but...not...necessarily bad. Decent people, maybe."

He looked at her then, but she didn't hold his eyes long enough to see the expression there.

**July 23; 6:38pm**

She stirred the bananas, caper berries, figs, and olives around in the tin as Malfoy held it over the fire. "This is going to be delicious."

His disgusted expression didn't change. "Some things aren't meant to mix together."

"But there are some things out there that people might have thought were gross until they tried it. Sometimes it works out, and it's amazing."

"And sometimes it tastes like shit."

"Or it tastes like strawberries and chocolate."

"I hate strawberries."

She gave him an irritated look. "Your optimistic attitude has a very positive influence on my life."

He smirked. "You're an acquired taste."

"Well, since you've acquired..." Her cheeks filled up with air and she released it slowly, ignoring his amused expectancy. "Shut up."

**July 24; 4:04pm**

He was hogging the torch. They were looking in the same general place, but when she wanted to look in a certain area, he would be swinging the light over to something else. She wanted to look around the cave how she looked, and not follow Malfoy's erratic sight pattern. It reminded her of when people started reading over her shoulder, and she had to always wait at the end for them to finish. Then she would look up and try to figure out where they were, and read it again. If she knew them, she would make sure to pause at the sentences that would be confusing, and try to think up their thought process - but then she would get to the end and they still wouldn't be done. She hated that. It wasn't the same, of course, but that's what it reminded her of, and she _hated_ that.

The opening to the cave had mostly been filled in with rocks, but there had been a tiny crack they managed to squeeze through. So tiny that she had thought her breasts were going to be scraped right off her chest, and Malfoy had looked like he were practicing to be a contortionist or beginning a strange tribal dance. She had almost laughed when he started to shimmy, but his look was murderous at the quick little breath she took before it. She had returned the favor since he hadn't laughed when she decided to awkwardly attempt pressing her breasts down into fluffy pancakes.

There was only a little daylight that made it through the crack, but it was enough for her to catch the glint of something on the ground. She looked up at Malfoy and followed the light of the torch until he took a step forward. She took a step back as quietly as possible and turned herself so she wasn't blocking the daylight. It looked like a little silver chain as she plucked it from the ground, but it weighed too much for that to be all of it.

She held it up in front of her face, her eyes following the pendulum swing as she looked at the key dangling from the necklace. She glanced over at Malfoy as she started to pull the chain up into her fist, jumping when she found his eyes directly on her. He leaped forward, his hand swiping out for the necklace, but she jerked it away from his reach.

"I--" she started, but he jumped forward, grabbing her wrist before she could fully stuff the necklace into her pocket.

She tried to pull it away from him but he held tighter, the torch thudding against the ground as he reached up to grab her fingers with his other hand. She squeezed her fist as tightly as she could around the necklace, but he was adamant in trying to peel her fingers off. She smacked at his arm before clenching her hand around the one pulling her fingers, yanking down and digging her nails in. She twisted away from him, slamming her shoulder into him, but he only followed.

"Malf--" She yelled out when he managed to dig his index finger into the tight curl of her pinkie, shoving his finger under hers.

She stopped trying to pull his arm away and threw out her arm instead, smacking him in the shoulder, neck, the side of his face. His index finger curled, pulling outwards to dislodge her grip while his thumb shoved her knuckles up. She brought her heel down hard on his foot, twisting her body and throwing an elbow into his chest. His grip on her wrist tightened, yanking so hard on her tensed arm that she spun back to him. His thumb, index, and middle had a death grip on her fingers as his other two slipped into her palm, bringing the necklace into his own.

He pulled away from her completely the second he had it in his possession, taking a quick step back as he went to shove it in his pocket. Freakishly strong fingers aside, he had obviously underestimated her, and it only took Hermione a second to prove it. She did a run-and-jump and tackled him - prey and predator, and he would do well to remember it. His one hand grabbed her arm while the other, the one she wanted, flung out wildly as if he had a _chance_ on catching his balance.

He hit the ground, his head coming up to stop it from banging on the floor, and it banged into her own instead. She cried out, but Malfoy only grunted as all the air left his lungs, and Hermione slapped a hand into his chest to push herself further up his body. She grabbed his arm with both hands, yanking it back with the added strength of her weight as she pushed into a sitting position. He yanked her right back until she was lying down again, his arm straightening above his head as the hand on her shoulder seemingly tried to _rip it off her body_ _._

She kept her grip on his arm, moving a knee up from the ground beside him as she shifted, digging it into his side as she tried to crawl closer to his clenched hand. Malfoy let out a pained sound and jerked up so he was sitting, wrenching his arm away from her as he tried to shove her onto her back. She lifted up instead, moving her grip to his wrist, and ripped his arm down. His elbow gave out, his fist coming down near her shoulder, and she wrapped her hands around it.

"This is...cute...Granger." He temporarily stopped the claw-like digging of her fingers against his by waving his fist around violently.

"Cute? I... _will...bite_ you." She rocked on his lap as she tried to get his fist to her chest, wanting to trap it between her arm and body to hold it still. She couldn't pull his fingers from the necklace when he was waving it around like this.

He tried to flip her off of him, raising them up and pushing forward so her back was to the ground, but she locked her knees at his sides so he couldn't dislodge her. She bucked up, pulling his fist down to her chest, and his mouth fell open as he exhaled heavily against her cheek. His hand left her shoulder, slipping to the top of her arm before shooting to her hip as he pressed her down. He moved his arm back up and she moved to pull it back down again, his head dipping to puff air against her shoulder. His fist unclenched before she could get more than a nail between his fingers. She gave a questioning look to blond strands and his earlobe, her fingers loosening on his hand. The necklace dropped to her chest as he pulled up to his feet, her legs and arms falling away from him, and he turned quickly to pick up the torch.

Hermione grabbed the necklace, looking up at his back. "Mal--"

"Keep it." His voice came out a little rough, making her fine hairs stand on end. She was flushed and breathless, and her heart was beating oddly quick.

Malfoy was already walking further into the cave so she got to her feet quickly, taking quick strides to catch up to him. She released a heavy breath, looking up at the back of his head at the weird sensation in her bones, but she didn't even have time to process it. His foot scraped to a stop as he pulled back, and Hermione froze mid-step.

They looked at one another and then down into the darkness in front of them, a roaring noise filling up their eardrums. She recognized it immediately, the image of the river and the rock wall flashing to the front of her mind. She spun around, pounding her way to the exit, but didn't make it more than five steps before she felt water splash against her ear. There was only a second to suck in a breath, Malfoy appearing beside her, and then it hit her like an explosion.

She fell forward, expecting the ground, but she was tossed and turned in frantic swirls of water as it engulfed her. She spun around, looking for the surface, but didn't even see the rocks until she was slammed against them. Pain shot through her and red unfurled in front of her face, blooming into a cloud as she curled into herself for a moment. The water was no longer pushing against her as she recognized the rocks as the exit, spinning towards where the crack had been. Malfoy's panicked face greeted her instead, and her own panic doubled when she saw the crack had been filled in.

She pushed up, kicking her feet, for the top of the cave. There was only enough room at the top for her to get her mouth over, but it was rising. Malfoy emerged on her second breath, both of them having to tilt their heads back to breathe.

"The rocks aren't moving," he rushed out, so quickly that it took her a few seconds to figure out what he said.

They tried to keep above the water, her nose pressing into the ceiling, but they only had time for two more quick breaths before the air space was gone. She was half-robbed of her last one, inhaling more water than oxygen, but there wasn't enough time to worry about how little she had gotten. She turned over, kicking off the ceiling and gliding down to the once-exit. She tried to push her fingers through small slots and rip the rock out, punch and kick it out, but they were unmoving. Every second left her with less oxygen in her lungs, and every movement forced her body to use up more.

She turned back to the cave, swimming along the sides and ceiling to look for an exit she hadn't seen before. The water grew darker the deeper she went, and her lungs grew more compressed. She had to fight with her instincts to breathe, struggling to constantly remind herself that it wasn't an option. She could see the light from the torch swinging deeper inside the cave, and though they had a better chance at finding an exit if they remained split up, there was only so much searching she could do when she couldn't see.

She felt along the rock, cutting her fingers and palms on the sharp points. There was still a faint glow of light, but her vision was beginning to web black, fading around the edges. The burn inside of her was deep and intense, but her body felt limp and languid. Every movement felt like it took a lot, and she had to force herself to concentrate.

She had to find a way out, a way to breathe. If-- She looked down at her bag, remembering the long map at the bottom. She wasn't sure how well the material would hold up, but she might be able to shove it through one of the cracks in the rocks where they entered. If she could get it out far enough, and wrap her mouth around the one end...

Her plan was desperate but it was the only thing she could think of through the fog in her brain. Everything was getting very blurry, and her arms and legs moved too slowly despite her knowing she had to go _faster, faster_. She felt like she was in a dream - one of those horrible ones where you have to get somewhere, but you're forced to move in slow motion. She used to have them all the time during and before the war. Harry always died.

She was yanked back suddenly, moving her dizzy vision to the side of Malfoy's face as he paddled them back. He waved ahead of him, releasing her arm as he started swimming in that direction. She followed him, if only for the raw look on his face and the determination of his direction. She gave her last bit of energy to swimming as hard as she could, waiting any second for some exit he had found, her darkened sight zooming in and out of focus. There was a trembling in her chest, like her heart was puttering, and any second now she was going to inhale water as she lost consciousness.

Malfoy wrenched her forward and up, and she felt something small break against her fingers. _The necklace_ , she thought distantly, trying to blink, trying to come back into herself. _Don't breathe, dunbrea_.

She was sinking, a single kick of her leg and push of her arm being her attempt at staying where he was. She needed him to hurry, she wanted to scream for that last breath not being enough to sustain her until now, and she wanted to fight harder against any plan of fate that she died here, of all places. Then Malfoy's arm fastened around her waist, and she felt herself being pushed against him. She curled her fingers into his shirt, struggling against her need to breathe and shut her eyes when he jerked up. Her head thudded against something, her vision turning black.

She didn't know how long she blacked out - a second, a minute - but she opened her eyes to darkness and _oxygen_. She gulped in a breath, three of them, her head still spinning, and she could taste salt on her tongue. There were fingers on her chin, digging into her jaw, keeping her head tilted up to the air. She pulled in one more before the fingers squeezed in warning, Malfoy's arm pulling her back down into the water.

She looked as he pushed himself up, his chest moving against hers as he gasped in oxygen. She _needed_ more - it was beyond want, it was her body yelling for survival. There were still dark edges around her sight, she was dizzy, and her lungs were still burning. She had been pulled back from the ledge, but not far enough. She let her head fall back, Malfoy's fingers slipping down her throat, and looked at...a door? A square of wood, the broken silver chain from the necklace hanging past the edge of it.

Malfoy sunk down, his fingers moving up to grab her jaw again, and he pushed  
her up towards more wood. _Floorboards_ , she realized. She was sucking in air  
through cracks between floorboards. She coughed, hacked, and gasped, _gaspgasp_  
ed. Her body was starving for it, her hands moving up to grab Malfoy's shoulders as she p

She reached up a hand to push at the wood, shoving them up, but they only creaked. She needed something else...one of the knives. She could shove the blade through the crack, lay it across the wood on top, and push the handle up. It would break the knife or the floorboard, but those floorboards had to _go_.

Malfoy's arm tensed around her and she held her breath as he pulled her down, raising himself up at the same time. His arm dropped from her, and she saw his arms punching up against the wood. She blinked at him, letting her eyes focus as the oxygen worked through her blood, and pulled the dagger from his waist. His hand snapped down and he followed, giving her a look like she had planned on stabbing him, and she held the dagger out to him. She made hand gestures that she wasn't sure if he understood, but then he was back up there, thrusting the knife between the boards.

She kicked up, slamming her palms into the board he was working on, and felt it move under their hands. It dropped down into the water between them, and Malfoy stuck his hands through the gap, grabbing the edge of another board. His body jerked up and down as he tugged on it, breaking free after he worked it loose. He dropped it and she pushed it out of her sight, staring at the water. She was almost positive that it was... It was definitely dropping. Malfoy was breathing without tilting his head back, and then so was she.

He dropped the third board into the water and looked over at her, then back to the gap, both of them panting, their breath loud and oddly hallow in the small space. "I'm not a twig, Malfoy. One more, at least," she wheezed.

He gave her a look like she should have stopped eating weeks ago to prepare for this moment. She reached up to grab the wood herself, and felt him press against her back as his hands grabbed to either side of hers. She lifted herself up and they both yanked down, the board coming easily. She didn't even have time to drop it fully before Malfoy's hands were on her hips, shoving her up. She grabbed the next board and lifted herself up the rest of the way, wiggling from his impatient grip and to get her bum and bag through at her angle. She got her chest over before she had to reach out and dig in with her fingers, pushing her arms down as she hauled her soaked, dead weight out the rest of the way.

It took a lot of effort to get herself to her feet, her body completely drained, and Malfoy muttering something about acid and burning alive as he pulled off another floorboard. She jumped on the floorboard at the other side, just barely catching herself before she fell backwards when it gave. She did it again, almost falling completely through, her trainers sinking into water. The back of her thighs scraped painfully over the edge, but Malfoy grabbed her under the knees and shoved her back up.

He reached for the side of a board, but the water had sunken low enough that his arms were raised straight above him, and he only had a grip with half the length of his fingers. He tried to pull his weight out of the water, but his wet fingers slipped. Hermione knelt, bending over to grab one of his shaking arms, her body straining almost as badly as his when she tried to help lift him. He opened his mouth, his eyes locking with hers, before shooting over her shoulder.

Her heart jumped as she turned her head, greeted by a forearm and a push to the side. She looked up at the man's face, digging her fingers into Malfoy's arm, and went to shove the stranger away when he bent over the hole. She panted, watching as he grabbed Malfoy's other arm, another set coming from the other side of her to grab him below her own grip. She looked up at the second, younger man as he nodded his head for her to move back, and she did, scrambling to her feet.

She stood a step away, tense and waiting for a sign that she would have to do something to defend them. They didn't drop Malfoy, though, both men pulling up and back as a blond head emerged through the hole. They heaved Malfoy over until his knees slid against the floor, leaving white fingerprints in his arms when they released him, and he hurried to stand.

Hermione looked at the two men and Malfoy as he gasped for air, her eyes flicking towards a movement at the side of the room. An older woman stood there, grey laced through her hair, but she looked about the same age as Hermione's mum. The woman was nervous, wringing her hands with a sheen of sweat across her forehead. Hermione swung her eyes around the room, spotting a shelf of canned food and boxes stacked in the corner. There was an old couch and dresser against the far wall, covered in dust. It had to have been their home.

She looked back at Malfoy as he held the necklace out to the older man, who stared at it for a few very tense seconds before taking it with a nod. She was freezing, she didn't know where they were or how these people would feel about it, and what had happened was just beginning to sink into a very tired body.

Malfoy had just saved her life. She had run completely out of oxygen, she had _blacked out_. If he hadn't been there to lead her towards that door, to shove her up for air... She had been right there on the verge of something she couldn't stop, and he had done it for her. Maybe it was only because he needed her for whatever would happen with the scars, but it still meant something to her. It still sort of shocked her no matter his motives or it not being the first time, and she was still grateful.

"Sorry about your floor," she tried, trembling and staring at Malfoy. He looked back at her, the woman saying something in Italian before walking up a set of stairs.

"Affamato?" the older man in front of her asked.

Malfoy looked at their bags before staring back at her again. "S."

The two men led them to the stairs, the younger one looking hesitant, and his father - she was assuming - perplexed. Hermione wasn't too certain they should have been following these people, harmless looking or not. They had pulled Malfoy up, though, and no one was screaming when they spotted their floor.

Hermione caught Malfoy's wrist when they started up the stairs, and he turned to look at her. "They asked--"

"Thank you," she cut in.

He studied her for a moment, and she realized that she hadn't released his wrist yet. "I'm not sure on who owes--"

"I told you I don't call evens. Thank you."

He looked uncomfortable, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he stared at her, before looking at the men paused at the top of the staircase. "Let's not do it again."

She grinned. "Agreed."

**6:11pm**

It wasn't likely that she had risen from a cave and through the floorboards of heaven, but she was still counting it as a possibility. The shower - the hot shower - followed by a warm towel had been good enough to think so. The _clean_ clothes with no stains or tears had been a contributing factor as well - despite how weird it was to wear a stranger's little-too-big clothes, and how the woman had to insist a half-dozen times before Hermione grew worried she was being offensive. Hermione had never been a...dress with floral print sort of girl either, but it was still better than the zombie look she was sporting with her own. There had also been actual _ointment_ and _bandages_ for their scrapes and injuries.

But the thing that really drove the point home was the food she could smell cooking in the kitchen. Her stomach was doing very strange and embarrassing things at the scent of it, and her mouth was constantly watering. She had to try very hard not to look like she was salivating, in case the family started to think she and Malfoy were those jungle people they had talked about. It was bad enough that she kept wiggling around on the comfort of a couch, and staring at the solid, smooth wood under her bare feet, like she had never felt them before.

Malfoy looked a little... _twitchy_. It had taken the woman more tries with him than it had her for him to put on the clothes she handed him, and Hermione thought he agreed more out of the lack of desire to put on dirty clothes after a shower than the woman's insistence. He had raised an eyebrow at her floral dress when she walked into the living room, tugging a leg of his borrowed trousers down. Though she had earned a glare for telling him that the light blue shirt made him look very delicate, she thought he looked... Well, blue worked on his coloring, that was all. His trousers were too short, but it hardly mattered.

She didn't think it was just the clothes making him nervous, or the glory of new comforts, or even that they were currently accepting the hospitality of strangers after nearly dying under their floorboards. She was positive that his discomfort was formed by the fact that the strangers were - distinctly, and without a doubt - Muggles. He must have spoken to a few of them once they had come to the Islands, and possibly before that as well, but this was different. This was sitting in their home and having a chat. He looked at the door more than he looked at their faces.

Hermione would have been laughing at him had she not felt so uncomfortable herself - not because of who they were, of course, but everything else. She would have been all right if she could discuss things like books, facts, or theories. Here, she didn't even know the language. That bit was all up to Malfoy who, she found, spoke Italian fluently. She didn't know why he hadn't shared this with her earlier, but he didn't like to tell her much of anything unless she dug it out of him. With claws, and anger, and more determination. She was certain he had two goals in life - to get the plant before her, and to piss her off while doing so.

"Granger."

She looked up from his ankles and the short hem of the trousers to meet his eyes, feeling self-conscious suddenly as she smoothed her hands over the dress. "Y--"

"Their daughter died in the cave." He nodded his head back to the man sitting silently in his recliner, and Hermione's eyes widened as she glanced over at him. "A _flooding_."

"She... I mean, they don't seem like-- Unless they're like me, or they were...looking."

He seemed to understand what she meant with her vagueness. "I don't believe they're like us at all. The hatch was there when they moved in a decade ago, and the daughter would go down there all the time since she was a child. They found a man down there with her - they still don't know who he was, but she was seventeen, so they think it might have been a boyfriend. Both of them died in the flood. It was the only time, before now, that it's happened."

"Since they've been here."

"Right."

"That's horrible," she murmured, staring down at the floor. "Do you think they have anything that the man might have been carrying?"

"Oh, hold on, let me just ask if they did a little grave robbing while they were mourning their dead daughter."

Hermione gave him a sharp look, pulling the dress down over her knees. "You can bring it up in a nonchalant sort of way. Just ask if they discovered any clues as to why the flooding happened, or if they recovered anything to identify the man."

"It's not like he would have the plant shoved in his pock--"  
"But there could have been something important. Another piece to the puzzle." "Fine."

He just continued to look at her, so she did that move where she would open her eyes really wide, looking down and in the general direction of the person while raising her eyebrows. _Get on with it_. The problem was that it was a pretty universal eyeball-code and the man sat up straighter in his chair in acknowledgment. Malfoy glanced between the two of them before smiling and telling the man something that had him laughing.

Hermione promised revenge in her glare.

**7:39pm**

Hermione was stuffed. In fact, she might have been stuffed half a plate and glass of wine before deciding she was stuffed. It was a good thing the dress wasn't tight.

She had a bit of a dopey grin on her face, but she was genuinely pleased at the moment, despite everything. Her hunger and thirst were satisfied, she was warm, clean, comfortable, and feeling just a little silly and lightheaded from the wine and exhaustion. Everything would have been magical had Floralis been in her hand - or a working wand, but she had given up that hope for now.

"What is she saying?" she asked, leaning over towards Malfoy as he shook his head at the woman across the table.

"Nothing."

"It looks like she's offering for us to sleep here." The woman had her hands folded under a tilted cheek as she smiled at Hermione.

"And we're not going to."

Hermione bit her lip, turning her eyes to the blond. "I'm too tired to walk very far tonight. I know it's strange, but it's a lot better than being worried about--"

"We're not sleeping here, Granger."

"Just because you're uncomfortable that they're Muggles--"

"I'm uncom--"

"I'm sleeping here." She shrugged and the vein on his temple popped up. "They're nice people, and if we don't have to worry about someone or something attack--"

"They're nice people because we're their subconscious desire to help a child after a flooding that they couldn't save her from. You're--"

"What? Oh, you're just--"

"--and taking advantage of--"

"Why are you so uncomfortable around Muggles? It's not like they're going to pull out a wand and hex you--"

"I'm not--"

"Yes, you--"

"It's just--"

"Why are--"

"They're weird," he snapped, which really just came out as a very harsh whisper, since they were trying to keep their voices between them.

"What?" She laughed.

"They're weird. They don't know anything about where I come from, they have all these...these fucking _gadgets_ , and fine. Fine, I have a little _trouble_ with--"

"Just because you're... _bitter_ about having _only_ the Wizar--"

"I'm not bitter, I'm--"

"Think of it like a new culture. It's something to learn about--"

"We all don't have your thirst for knowledge, Granger," he hissed. "I'd rather learn about the mating activities of _Gryffindors_ than--"

She narrowed her eyes at him before smiling and nodding at the family staring in amusement or curiosity. "We'll sleep here."

**8:02pm**

"Perhaps we shouldn't sleep here."

Malfoy looked at her trepidation and then the two beds separated only by a small table before smirking. She had no doubt that if his boots and clothes were dry, he would have left after dinner, and he might have still been planning on it until she said that. "It's not like there's only one bed. If you don't try to take _advantage_ of me in my sleep, I think--"

"I don't want to mentally _scar_ myself, so I think we'll be okay."

"Just fight the temptation." Which must not be something he was very good at, since he seemed sold on spending the night the second he pressed his palm into the mattress.

It wasn't like they hadn't been sleeping near one another for months, but there was something about the presence of a _bed_ that made her hesitant. Sleeping a few meters from Malfoy wasn't that big of a deal when she was also sleeping on the ground. Sleeping an arm's length from Malfoy on a bed - two separate beds or not - made her feel a lot differently. She contemplated moving the other bed across the room, but it seemed like a childish idea.

She could sleep in the same room as him. She was an adult. It wasn't the same bed. She had been doing it for awhile now.

She shook her head very quickly, trying to shove a thought out through her eardrums - an image, really, a _memory_. Malfoy's phantom breath across her cheek, his lips parting as his hand shot down to her hip, pressing her down. She looked at him on the other bed from the corner of her eye, watching him slide under the blanket, and drew up the image of his skeleton feet to replace the other one. He was giving a perplexed look to the lamp on the bedside table, the only light in the room, before reaching up to pull on the metal string.

She moaned when she slipped into the bed and under the soft blankets, sinking into the mattress. She hadn't slept on anything so soft in _months_ , and it was what she wanted every time she had gone to sleep. People took comfort for granted, but she wouldn't -- not again.

"What are you doing over there, Granger?" He sounded like he was forcing back laughter. "You don't sound like you're resisting tempt--"

She threw one of her pillows at him, her face flaming. "Why are you so--"

" _Oh_ , but I love this a lot more than the life threatening objects you usually grab. Thanks, by the way."

"Give that back," she growled, propping up on her elbow as she looked towards him, her eyes slowly adjusting to the moonlight coming through the window.

"I don't think I ought to." He sounded drowsy and smug as she threw the blankets off of her, moving towards his bed. "Where is your prudish indignation? Are you trying to rid yourself of that insufferable virginity? I think--"

"If I _am_ still a virgin--" She yanked on the pillow in his arms.

" _Still_. Interesting choice of--"

"I would hardly contemplate giving it to _you_!" She dug her heels in and pulled back, but the pillowcase burned from out her grip.

"Yes," he drawled, and she could hear his amusement. "Your _gift_. See, and you already follow me around--"

"Give me that pillow. The pillow, or I will stab you in the eye."

"...That doesn't make for good foreplay. Surely you've read some stories--"

"I will pluck your leg hair out, one by--"

"--diagrams, a how-to book?"

"--are dentists. I know how to rip out teeth."

"Fuck, Granger, _what_ kind of books did you _read_?"

She went to grab the pillow in his arms, waiting until he tensed his grip on it, and then yanked one out from under his head. She saw a brief flash of his surprise before she brought the pillow down into his face, pulling it back before he could grab it.

"Nuh, uh, uh," she sang, hopping back when he jerked up and shot an arm out towards her. "In. The _eye_."

She paused, waiting for him to make a move, and crawled into her bed smugly when he just continued to glare. "Bitch."

"I'm sorry, did you _want_ another pillow to the face?"

"Try it again."

"If you ins--"

"Granger, if you even _step_ from that bed... What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to look properly frightened by your weak threats." "

You look ridiculous."

"I think it's fitting then, don't you?"

**July 25; 4:13am**

"Granger," was whispered next to her ear, followed by a shake to her shoulder.

She opened an eye, the other eyelid having decided to glue itself down over the course of the night. She reached up to rub it, blinking at a dark shirt that stepped back from the bed. She was having one of those horrible moments where you wake up and have no idea where you are. Sometimes it happened when you were in your own bed, but it felt like you were sleeping the opposite way, and for some reason your ceiling didn't look a _thing_ like yours. Hermione didn't experience it very often, but she woke up completely confused.

"Hurry up." She tilted her head back to look up at Malfoy, and received a bundle of fabric instead.

"What are these?" The cave, the house, bed and...Malfoy, right.

"It's called clothing. The fact that you've been wearing _that_ same--"

"You found them?" She looked down at the bundle of her clothes, smelling the laundry soap as she sat up.

"They were on some sort of cord outside. Has your brain started to understand _movement_ yet?"

The fact that Malfoy must have pulled her clothes off the line - her knickers and bra -- was enough to make her fully alert. She pulled them to her chest and gave him an accusatory look. In a rush or not, he could have just told her where to get them instead of _touching_ them, and _looking_ at them.

"What?" Like she had been accusing him of things all day, and he couldn't imagine what the next one was.

"Nothing." Because it wasn't _really_ that big of a deal. She had folded Harry and Ron's underwear. It was just an article of clothing - but it was still weird for Draco Malfoy to be touching her underthings.

He gave her his angry questioning look before his eyes tracked down to her clothes. "It's not like I wanked off--"

"Oh, God, _Malfoy_. Can--" she sputtered, the tips of her ears heating up.

"Sh!" he hissed, flashing his eyes to the door. "Shut up and get dressed. I'll be outside."

"What is the rush?" She had figured it was just part of their usual need to get up and go as early as possible, wanting to beat anyone else who might be looking for the plant as well. But he looked more hurried than that, and now he was worried about being too loud.

"Don't forget your bag." He continued to mutter as he walked to the door. "Wait! We have to leave a note or something."

" _What_?"

"A thank you note. And you didn't even make your bed."

He tilted his head back, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. "You cannot be serious," he whispered, though she thought he was talking more to fate than her.

"I'm very serious. I don't know Italian--"

"Fine, I'll write the fucking note. But I'm not making the bed."

She watched him walk out of the room, both of them scowling. Well, someone was ungrateful. As if writing a note and making a bed was all that hard. The family had helped them, and just because they were _Muggles_ didn't mean they didn't deserve some respect and gratitude. They weren't here to serve him.

Hermione changed in a lot of forceful movements and stiff limbs, making both the beds. She dug through her bag, making sure everything important was there. She had lost most of the food that had been laying at the top, and she couldn't find her pen to maybe leave a smiley face or something, but everything else was there. She folded the dress and left it on the bed, finding her still damp trainers before making her way out of the house.

Malfoy's jaw was clenching, and he barely looked at her before turning, shaking the torch to get it to light. Water resistant things were only so resistant, so she was surprised it was even working at all. She gave one evil look to the back of his head before following after him, down the hill slope and into the village below it.


	20. Part Twenty

**July 27; 2:21pm**

They had only spoken twice since they left the house. The first hadn't really been _speaking_ so much as it had been _screaming_ , angry hand gestures, and a lot of words formed together to make the most pointedly painful sentences they could manage. Malfoy had admitted that they were nice people, but still held firm that they freaked him out. He didn't budge on the idea that the wizarding and Muggle worlds shouldn't be separated, and he adamantly insisted that he had much better taste in wine. Hermione refused to believe that combining the two worlds wouldn't amount to chaos, _sort of_ apologized for suggesting he wanted to replace house-elves with Muggles for slaves, and refused to believe he had better taste than someone with their tongue chopped off. They had both made disparaging remarks about the other's parents, their choice of dress, the least admirable aspects of their personality, and the way they ate food.

The only thing it had _truly_ accomplished was venting some anger. The rage between them simmered down into a stony silence, which was only interrupted this morning, and marked the second time they had spoken. _Edible_?, he had asked about a bush of berries, and _no_ had been her response. She hadn't been sure, but saying no was better than being poisoned.

She was waiting for something to break through the uncomfortable silence around them, and she was betting it would have to be her. Sometimes she got too caught up in her thoughts to notice the tension, and other times she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it being there. She was pretty sure it was, though, especially since every time she drew up or back to walk beside him, he would send her these quick little side looks. Like he was waiting for her to say something or attack him, and then the silence grew really heavy. She would catch herself making a constipated expression or feel like she was breathing too loudly, and he would start making little clicking noises in his throat.

She didn't think he was aware of when he was doing that. Like how he would scratch his nose, and every time he would run the tip of his finger down the line of it to make sure it was straight or something. She wondered if someone told him it was crooked when he was younger and it made him have that self-conscious tic. Someone told her aunt that she had manly hands when she was little, and now her aunt always wore gloves or shoved her hands under the table - thirty-some years later. The same aunt once told Hermione she had ugly knees, but it worked a little differently on her, because she was still proud of them. Youth-wrecked with scars, but they made her feel tough in a dress if she had to be.

She thought she was watching him a little too closely when she started noticing these things, but then she realized that a person cannot spend every day and night with another person for two months and not pick up on them. From the way he would cut the banana skin off instead of peeling it, to having to look at whatever he was drinking as he drank it, to the way he had to straighten out his clothes before lying down to sleep.

He noticed hers, too. She hadn't realized how often she put her hands on her hips or bit her lip until his eyes tracked the movement. He watched her when she retied her laces in the morning because she liked them tight, and how she would have to hop twice to make sure they were staying that way. Whenever they were going to stop for the night, she would always knock twice on one of the trees, some strange subconscious action from when she did it as a child, marking it as _home_ in the games she played - and last week, in the dark, he had done it to let her know he was stopping. She thought he had busted her rolling her eyes around in the morning like a possessed doll as well, but she liked to make sure her eyeballs were completely lubricated and stretched, even if it didn't make sense.

She thought they both might be a little strange.

"I wish we had a mule." She hadn't really _meant_ to say that out loud, but at least it hadn't come out of nowhere. They were following a mule path around the mountain until they moved on to the next one, so she wasn't being completely random.

"We would only eat it."

She gave him an affronted look. "We would not eat our mule."

"Five or so days with no food, and watch how quickly I eat it." He looked over at her and gave a single shake of his head. "You would eat me before you ate that damn thing. Circle of life, and I'll lose out to a mule."

"I'll eat your fingers first," she said happily, smiling at his irritation and disbelief. "That way you might have a chance at making it before we find food."

"I'll only repay the favor, Granger. I'm not starving to death while you munch down on my appendages."

"That won't work, though. We'll both have nub hands. Who will cook up the fingers?"

"It had better be a talented mule."

"We'll have to start with the... _toes_ ," she drew the last word out, looking down at the tips of his boots. She wouldn't last an hour on his bony feet.

He seemed to know her thoughts on the lack of satisfaction his toes would bring her, because he was glaring from the perceived insult and smirking just a little in smugness. "Toes, it is. Should be interesting when you lose that balance, since you're already as coordinated as a newly blind person in a room filled with sharp objects."

"I am very coordinated!" She pointed to herself, in case he didn't get that it was _her_. "I can hop on one foot in a straight line, rubbing my stomach and patting my head, while singing--"

"What the hell does that--"

"You try it!" She stopped walking, throwing her arm out into all the space around them. "Go on, then. Show me you can do it."

"I'm not doing it."

"Because you can't!"

"Because I'm not going to look like an idiot just so you--"

"With the way you walk around all the time, I didn't think that was a problem for you." He stopped walking at that, turning his head back to her with one of his classic evil looks, and she spread her hands out. "Come on."

"You do it first." He nodded his chin towards her, tilting his head when she shook her own."No? Can't--"

"Because you're just going to stand there and laugh at me."

"With the way you walk around all the time, I didn't think-- Are you looking for something to throw at me?"

"No." Perhaps.

"There's a stick right behind you."

Her eyebrows pulled together as her look told him she knew he was up to something. She turned sideways to see the stick while still keeping an eye on him, and jumped to the side at the snake slithering across the path. She took another couple steps away from it, looking back at Malfoy who was walking away again. Well, he was lucky Harry wasn't here, or he certainly wouldn't have that cocky little swagger going on.

She jogged to catch up to him, her mind focused on Harry at the thought. Though she hadn't wanted to worry him with this, or force him into a dangerous situation, she still couldn't help but wonder where he was. The Ministry, Harry, Ron - they had to know she was missing by now, and she was sure the boys would have went into her flat. They must have seen the books, her research, the lists on the wall. She thought she knew them well enough to know they would come looking for her - that they would think something bad had happened when she disappeared for months. Maybe they were out looking for her now. They might have even been on Vulcano somewhere, or this island. It would take them a while to track her down to the Islands, but it wasn't impossible. Within the stack of maps had been one with Orsova circled on it, and the notebook papers with the Aeolian Islands had been left all over the floor in that basement. If...

She slowed down for a second as her eyes blurred with the thought, her feet skidding over dirt. "Malfoy. _Malfoy_. Do you remember the basement?"

She didn't think he would have stopped if her voice didn't come out so thick. "There-"

"The basement, in Orsova. Remember the circle on the floor? In blood? And then the man in the cave, he made it too, smaller, on the wall. Remember?"

He looked down at the dirt her feet kicked up when she stopped in front of him, his tongue pushing into his cheek as he rubbed his thumb knuckle over an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"Well, it must be connected. That can't be a coincidence. It must be some sort of spell--"

"You come running--"

"It might be linked to whatever spell we did. What else was in the bag?" She nodded to the bag over his shoulder, and he raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think there was anything else?"

She gave an impatient huff. "Malfoy, this is important--"

"I'm well aware that it's important, Granger. If it wasn't linked to my _continued existence_ , I don't--"

"Then was there anything else?"

"No."

He looked annoyed by her disappointment. She had really hoped there would be something that would help her figure out how everything fit together. Two circles of blood in connection to Floralis had to have meant something, but she couldn't begin to know what.

"We'll figure it out eventually." It took her a few seconds to realize he was actually reassuring her, and he held up his scarred palm. "We must have."

"But something went wrong. What if we didn't figure it all out?"

He exhaled heavily through his nose, adjusting his bag before turning to walk again. "And _I'm_ the killjoy."

**July 29; 5:26pm**

Hermione looked over to see Malfoy emerge from the trees he had disappeared into a few minutes ago. He had given her the _glance_ that always came right before he was about to make a sharp turn, which she took to mean not to follow him because he was about to use the loo. Well, he wasn't exactly _using_ a loo, but he was off doing the same thing one would normally do in the loo.

She picked her bag up, throwing it over her shoulder with a sigh as she started to walk after him. He must have pocketed her hand sanitizer, though he usually gave it back to her once he came out. He better not have left it behind back there - it was vital. She hadn't even used it to wash up when her entire body had been gross. She needed clean hands after something like that, and she would have regretted using it all up when they found a river.

She opened her mouth to ask him if he had it, but scrunched her nose instead when she studied his shoulders and back. He was walking differently. Maybe he was having some digestive issues. He was walking like a robot - the only time he walked that stiffly was when he was angry, and even then there was some sort of sway. "Malfoy?" He turned his head but kept walking, which meant he wasn't angry. He

would have ignored her or started muttering offensive things.

She ran her eyes down his face, neck, and then the back of his head when he turned forward again. Something was very _off_. Her gut was sending shivers of warning up her spine that she didn't really have a _reason_ for. His walk was a little off, but it didn't mean something had happened.

"Hand sanitizer?"

He kept walking, holding his hand out to the side, which did seem like a very Malfoy thing to do. He was speeding up his steps too, the prat. As if she couldn't catch up to him or something. She took a few leaps towards him, giving him an exasperated look before reaching for his hand. She looked down at his palm, her hand freezing over his as she saw that it was empty. Her fine hairs stood on end again, and she glanced up at him before looking down at his palm.

"Mal--" She grabbed his fingers on instinct, pulling them down to reveal the rest of his palm.

"Yeah?" he asked, low and...weak, soft, too soft. And there was no scar. She even ran her thumb over his life line to be sure, but there was _no scar_.

He stopped walking and so did she, his fingers folding over hers. Her eyes shot up to his, and her heart took off in a marathon race as she reached for the quill in her pocket. He seemed to sense her heartbeat, his eyes darting down to her throat, and his mouth turned up in a feral grin. She lifted the quill, trying to keep the fear from her blood, and then his head snapped forward, his face burying into her neck as he inhaled sharply. She didn't waste a second, wrenching her hand from his, and throwing a fist into one of his shoulders and shoving the quill into the other.

There was high-pitched whine that pealed out into the air and pierced her eardrums, but he -- it -- hit the ground on it's back. Hermione had turned before it had even finished falling, sprinting off in the direction they had came.

" _Malfoy_! Knife! _Knife_!" She needed a knife, a _blade_ ; she needed something more than a _quill_ , and _why did he have all the weapons_ _? "_ _Weap--_ _"_

Hermione screamed so hard her throat burned, her face crumbling from the pain that tore across her shoulder. All she saw was red, washing out the world around her as she fell forward, hitting the ground. She gasped, grinding her teeth in pain-shock as she flipped over, yelling out at the sight of Bill over her. He threw himself on top of her, claws scraping across her upper arm as his mouth fell open, revealing the teeth she had seen through the trees. The teeth with the rabbit, and the blood spurting across his cheek.

Hermione stabbed the quill straight up, without thought, sinking it into his stomach. He let out an inhuman screech, his head snapping back as her hand snapped back up. Again, _again, againagain_ she stabbed him, trying to shove him off with her other hand as she screamed out, too - screamed just to get the fear, pain, and panic outside of her somehow.

Her vision went white. She could still see the blurry form of his face through the milky coating, but it was _white_. Bill scrambled off of her with a growl, aiming a hard kick into her leg before disappearing from her sight. Her arms dropped and _fire_ exploded within her. She felt as if she were sinking into a cauldron of boiling hot water as she _screamed_ , and everything went dark.

**5:51pm**

_Starving_. The hunger was so deep that it was in the bones, drinking up the blood. It squeezed the body until all that was felt was the rawness of _absolute need_. And it could be _smelt_ , a familiar musk circling the air, growing stronger as the yelling did. _Him_.

The hands and feet moved silently over the branch underneath them, pausing when the tree swayed under the weight. He was coming closer to the puddle of blood on the ground, too useless for the need, but he would do. His pulse was a static cacophony of beats with the sweat and fear, mounting as he ran past the tree.

He stood at the edge of the blood, picking something off the ground. He spoke, a low, deep rumble of sound that could not be heard over his pulse. Nails scratched into the bark beneath the hands, holding the body still from the desire to leap. He had a knife, and the body would have to wait to ease the hunger until later. Later, when it could sink the teeth into his delicate layers of skin and be satisfied.

**10:12pm**

Patience did not come easily, but sleep did not for him. There were two bags clutched in his lap, and the eyes could see moonlight shining off the blade in his hand. He could not see as well in the darkness, and the body prepared itself every time his eyes drifted shut. They would spring open a moment later, leaving no time to attack.

His pulse was slower now, but it could still be heard as a constant reassurance for what was to come. The body would have to be quick, killing him quickly after the claws had been used so he didn't spoil. He was fast, but just a few seconds of not being prepared with his knife and he would be too slow.

**July 30; 8:29am**

The hunger had become painful - if the attack was not soon, the body would die. The eyes watched him move, the throat drying further at the sight of meat moving beneath skin, sliding over and under tendons, his heart beating strong.

The body jumped through the trees, strong and steady branches that didn't move to form too much noise. His eyes tracked but didn't see, the body barely visible through the leaves. He yelled out a name that pulled familiarity in the mind, over and over again, before stabbing the tree next to him. He kicked it violently, yelling out his anger, and his blood pulsed harder. He was fading. It would not be long.

**6:04pm**

The body was starved and too tired to be as quick as it should have been, but it would be enough. He had fallen into sleep, the knife in his loose grip as the feet crept quietly. Any hint of sound would wake him, so the body was careful, stepping over twigs on the walk to him. His scent was heavier now, the pulses of his blood strong enough to feel like the body's own. The back hunched, the shoulders drawing back, and the body sprung on top of his.

His eyes snapped open, but it was too late, his knife in the hand now. " _Granger_?"

He reached for the dagger but the other hand slammed into his chest, holding him to the ground. His heart pounded under the palm, each individual pulse through the tunnels feeling like tiny explosions. His heartbeat excited the body's own as the mouth grinned, and he cried out, reaching for the dagger again, but the arm pulled back to throw it away. The hands locked against his arms, holding them down to either side of his head. He bucked against the body sitting on his stomach, but it was unmovable. The eyes spotted a ring on his finger and a watch on his wrist, the hand sliding down towards them. His clenching fingers stopped at the scrape of the sharp nails against his skin, though the fingers were careful not to pierce yet.

"Jewelry? You want _fucking jewelry_? What did you do to her?"

 _Mine_.

He was yelling something, but it could not be heard over his body. He was struggling, but the body was too strong now. The finger pushed into his ring, the watch halfway over the hand before his fist had to be pulled back from the face. The head bent, excitement rushing along every bone as the mouth edged closer to his throat. The mouth fell open, inhaling deeply, and feeling his heartbeat crawl along the tongue. The tongue slipped out, pressing into his sweaty skin, and licked the length of the vein throbbing in his neck. The nose brushed against something, interrupting the journey closer to his pounding heartbeat. The hand reached down, yanking it off of his neck and towards another finger as the mouth kept lowering, down to the heart.

 _Mine_.

The eyes just caught the flash of his free hand pulling something from a bag above his head, when his teeth sunk into the shoulder. The voice cried out, the hands loosening their grip, and something hot slammed into the same shoulder. The voice squealed a high pitch, the body seizing up, and he flipped it over.

The arms shot out, but the fingers gripped only air as he flung himself away. The hands pushed the loose rings and watch back on as the legs brought the body up, running for him.

 _Mine_.

He fell to the ground in front of the body, spinning with the dagger raised and shaking in his hand. The legs slowed, the-- A flash of fire hot pain erupted across every nerve ending, a scream ripping out into the silence, and everything was red, black, gone.

Hermione opened her eyes, deep pain exploding across her back and around to her shoulder. She gurgled saliva as it tilted the world around her. Wide grey eyes stared back into her own, and Hermione turned her head, pushing her hand up against Malfoy's shoulder as she gagged. There was something cold that pressed into her neck at the movement, but her reaction couldn't be helped. She dry heaved forcefully, chords popping out on her neck as her face heated up. The events that happened since she was attacked by Bill collided in her mind, and she heaved harder.

 _Oh, God_. The things she had _thought_. The only thing she had wanted was to tear her teeth into Malfoy and _eat_ him. She had craved, _needed_ , blood, flesh, _human_ _meat_. There had been nothing that existed beyond that goal, beyond the pulse of his blood. Hermione had felt animalistic anger before, but never cravings. Never to _feed_. And God, she would have done it. There had been nothing human to her thought process. She hadn't even been there - not a single hint of will to stop it, or normal thought.

Her head was snapped forward with a crack, and she looked up at Malfoy. She couldn't control the tears streaming down her cheeks any more than she could have controlled whatever... _whatever_ that had been. Whatever she had _become_.

"Cry all you want," he gasped. "Your shit isn't going to work on me. I'm not going to let--"

"Malfoy--" Her voice cracked and rasped out from her throat.

"Say my name as--"

"Draco. Draco Malfoy. I... The magic! Oh, God, I'm so sorry." She couldn't even think straight, let alone talk in a way that made sense. She was in pain, and she was confused, and she was sick. He cocked his head, a hesitant look taking over his face, and she knew the coolness against her throat was the dagger. "Bill! He did something and... _God_."

She tried to pull up her hands but he was holding the one down, and the dagger pressed closer to her throat as the free one raised. She put it back down when she caught enough of a glimpse to see that the claws were gone, focusing her eyes back on Malfoy. She had to convince him that she wasn't possessed, or...or _whatever had happened_ _to her_ was no longer happening. Before he killed her, convinced she was _that thing_ that Bill was, _that she had been_ _._

"I don't believe you," he breathed so fiercely that it hissed.

"Look at my hand. Look at the scar. That's how I knew that Bill wasn't you, even though he looked like you. You went to pee! You went to pee, and you gave me the glance! Then you came out, but you were walking like you were constipated, so I had a bad feeling. Then I went to get the hand sanitizer from you, and it wasn't in his hand, and then I saw that there wasn't a scar. _There was no scar_."

He stared down at her for several long, tense seconds, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers. " _Fucking_ \--" before he made a lot of noises that could have been words, but they were too close together and came out too hard for her to understand them.

"Malf--"

"Shut up. Shut. Up. And don't move. _Not_. A. _Millimeter_ , or I will kill you."

She was certain he doubted she was some magical, murderous creature enough not to be able to injure her anyway, but she nodded. He stood, and she lay very still, rolling her eyes up to the darkening sky. More tears slipped down her cheeks, and she bit her lips together, closing her eyes. The pain in her back felt like it was eating her alive, and at the thought of that, she couldn't help replaying everything.

She had been so completely out of control. Her body had worked, and she had _seen_ and _thought_ those things actively, but she hadn't been there. It had taken her mind from her, her one great defense against everything, even when her magic failed her. If the magic hadn't left her, she would have... She would have preferred if he stabbed her. If she would have had to go her entire life like that, she would have hoped he had the courage to kill her. She had been an _animal_ , except that she thought in a social language. That was what it reduced her to.

She would take a near-drowning in a cave over that. She would take _anything_ that happened so far over that.

Malfoy stood above her, a vine hanging in the space between his arms. "Put your hands in front of you."

"It's really--"

"Now."

"I think--"

He reached down and grabbed her arms, and she tried to pull them away, but that freak strength had left her when the magic did. She couldn't even _move_ properly from the agony it brought, but he ignored everything she yelled at him. He tied the vine tightly around her wrists, wrapping it halfway up her forearms and cutting off the excess. He moved down to her legs next, and she tried to breathe through the pain in her back and shoulder.

"I think--" "Shut up." "No, I--"

\- 367 -

"Let me fucking _think_!" he yelled, ripping the rings and watch off of her.

He stared at her wrist for a moment, and his fingers were a lot gentler as she felt them skate across her skin. He pulled his hands back, her bracelet - the one Harry and Ron had got her, the one he had made her needlessly walk miles for - clenched in his hand. He ran his fingers over it before raising his eyes to her, standing and walking out of her vision field.

**9:18pm**

"If you don't stop whimpering, I'll kill you." He was sitting there, staring at her with his dagger pulled, like he had been for hours now.

"You stabbed me!"

"You tried to _kill_ me!"

"I know, but it wasn't _really_ me! I couldn't help that! It was the magic, or _something_. And something...something is wrong with my back. _Really_ wrong. I think Bill did something. I think he clawed me when I was trying to run away."

"How do I know this isn't some attempt to get out of the binds and try to kill me again? I--"

"You could look at it!"

"Because in a place that makes bats into murderous creatures, can turn us into some fucked up looking werewolf, or make clones of us, I'm really going to _believe what I see_."

"Malfoy, you know I'm--"

"I don't _know_ what you are."

"I've been telling you all these things we've done, and--"

"So? If it had, or has, possession of your body, and is able to make it function, then it must have access to your mind. And if it has access to you mind, it can know everything Granger would, and even act like Granger would. There's--"

"But I'm me! Untie me and--"

He snorted, tapping the tip of the dagger against his knee as he looked at her with contempt.

**11:01pm**

She woke up turned onto her side, Malfoy's hand on her arm as he breathed in sharply. Whatever wound was back there hadn't been made any better when she had been trying to wiggle herself to a rock, searching for something to cut her binds with so she could take care of her wounds. Sleep had overtaken her, though, a combination of exhaustion, pain, and a fever that was starting to boil up in her blood.

Malfoy's hand left her arm as she stared dizzily at the ground, watching the light from the torch fade as he moved somewhere. She could hear him digging around before he came back, his hand pushing on her arm for her to roll onto her stomach.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you want me to wash it off or not?"

She almost told him to piss off, but her mind was swimming and the only real clear thought was that she needed for him to do just that. She rolled over onto her stomach, keeping her face above the dirt, though it took a lot of effort to hold her head up. She made a surprised sound, flinching away from his hand when he started to lift her shirt up.

"Unless you have a pair of--"

"It's fine." Her voice came out strange as he yanked her shirt up, over her back and shoulders, and she was distantly worried through the fog when he hissed out a string of curses.

She almost thought he had pushed the dagger in and tore it down through her skin at the first swipe. "Tell me how to make it. What I should use." She let out a gurgle of noise in response to his panic. "Tell me what to fucking use!"

"Just...clean. Bill--" She couldn't even talk through the torment of her injuries, not until the pain settled, but maybe he would understand what she meant. That they just had time to clean it, and they would do the poultice later, because they should have been leaving _hours ago_ _._

She cried out at the next swipe and he cursed again, holding her down as he rubbed the cloth over her wounds. There was only a few seconds of her screaming before she edged out into darkness.

**July 31; 10:47am**

She didn't know how long she had been out of it. There were dozens of blurry images and murmuring sound clips in her head, but very little was truly clear. Beyond the foggy images she couldn't seem to put in order, there were a few that stood out in her mind. She could remember Malfoy untying her binds, and the image of him staring at her with the dagger clenched must have come after. She remembered him sleeping, which probably came before that, and pressing something warm to her back. She wasn't sure if she dreamt of holding his hand, but there was definitely a short memory of her reaching out to grab it, and of him letting her.

She wondered if this was how people felt after a night of hard drinking, but without the pain. She could honestly say she didn't get the draw towards it. She couldn't make sense of much that had happened, or if any of it had happened at all.

The left side of her back and shoulder still felt like a tight ball of fire, but it was a lot better than it had been. Her whole body ached, and the skin of her arm was sticking to her face with the residue of old sweat. Fresh, cool perspiration was beaded along her hairline and dripping down the back of her ears, but the worst of her fever must have passed.

"Eat this." She looked up at Malfoy's demand, seeing a piece of banana held between two of his fingers. "Come on, Granger, you have to fucking eat something. You didn't eat all night, might not have eaten for two days, and I didn't go through all this shit to have you die from _deficiency_. You know this is my life too, right? Shouldn't that trigger some bleeding heart hero syndrome?"

She couldn't find the energy to glare at him or speak, but she tried to push up anyway. Her arm shook underneath her and she lowered herself back down again, stretching out her fingers. He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her dirt covered hand, and then held the banana in front of her mouth. He rolled his bloodshot eyes up to the sky as she stared at the faint yellow of the food, trying to lift her head or get her arm more than an inch off the ground.

She could wait. She really wasn't _that_ hungry. Sleep was better.

"No. No, eat, and then you can go back to sleep. I swear, Granger, can you make

this any more diffi--" He grabbed her jaw hard, making her eyes open again, and she tried to speak but only cracks of sound left her throat. "Eat, or I will leave you here."

He gave her a fierce look, holding the banana in front of her mouth again and tugging on her jaw. She opened her mouth, moving forward to take a bite, embarrassed and angry through the fog in her head. He kept his eyes on hers this time, watching her chew, and then held it out again. She took one last bite before turning her head into her arm, falling into sleep again.

**7:07pm**

She could _move_. She wasn't about to hop around or take off running, but she could lift her arm without feeling like she was trying to lift an elephant with it. The pain was only slightly better since that morning, but it didn't pull too hard when she pushed herself to a sitting position. Which was good, because of all the things Hermione needed in that moment, emptying her bladder was the first priority.

She pulled her shirt down, picking up the poultice when it slipped to the ground. Malfoy was sleeping two meters from her, sitting up against a tree, their bags on either side of him. The dagger was resting on his leg, his hand around it, and his eyes were moving under purple-tinged eyelids. He hadn't got more than a few minutes of sleep in more than a day when she...it...attacked him, and she doubted he got very much while she had been in her fever daze. She wasn't going to wake him just to tell him she had to go to the loo.

She was less than three seconds into a very satisfying...loo break, when she heard someone trampling through the trees. She had to move quickly, which did not work well with her back and tired limbs. "Malfoy?" Her voice came out in a rumble of hoarseness.

"Granger?" Well, at least it _sounded_ like him.

"What-- I'm peeing." Which was an awkward thing to have to say.

"Now?"

"Well, I...I'm planning on it."

"Are you..." She followed his voice, finding his face dimly lit between two trees.

She held up her hand and he stared at it for long enough to send a prickling of warning down her arms, then lifted his own. She squinted at it, having to take a step closer to see the scar, not realizing until then that she didn't have her quill shoved in her pocket like she usually did. Malfoy must have had it - she could recall him _stabbing_ her.

"I don't think we should separate. Considering...their ability to look like us, and that he's still out there." He was still giving her a distrusting look.

"Their?"

"I followed you. When you followed Bill, I was following you. Something that looked like you, anyway."

"Did it turn into something?"

"It disappeared." He scratched his jaw, the scruff scraping under his nails.

"Like that one I found of you, in the beginning. I don't know if it's the same thing Bill is, though, or if it's created by it. Bill can obviously change his appearance. I mean, it was even in your clothes, and the bag..."

"Did you change yours?"

She shrugged a shoulder, pulling on her shirt. "I don't know. I... I wasn't aware, if I did."

He looked like he was going to fall asleep at any word. "Are you done?"

"No." He just continued to stand there. "No," she repeated, in case he hadn't got it the first time.

He pulled back, looking unsure for a moment before turning away from her, still just _standing there_. She knew that they shouldn't separate from one another for too long, but that was a bit ridiculous. She would need a little privacy for this that required more than a turned back.

"Why don't you just give me one of the knives-" "Not a chance."

"I'll only be--"

"You tried to eat me yesterday. Just--"

Her stomach turned at the memory. "We've already established--"

"I'm not giving you one of them."

"Then my quill, at least, and--"

"Or that."

She glared at his back. She would force him to give her one and her quill later. After what happened, she wasn't going to be leaving all the good weapons in his possession for a day more. He had as much of a chance of turning into that thing as she did now, and what would happen _then_?

She hobbled a little with the fullness of her bladder as she searched for a spot to go that hid Malfoy completely from her view. She wouldn't even bother going if she didn't need to so badly, and she would have fought harder for some privacy if she wasn't completely weaponless. She squatted down behind a tree, shifting to see around it, and waited. Her bladder apparently had stage fright, despite how much it was threatening to burst. She stared up at the tops of trees, humming loudly to cover up the sound when it finally came.

Malfoy was waiting with the hand sanitizer when she got back, no horrified expression on his face from hearing her bladder release in a record length of time. "Can I have my bag now, or did you want to hoard that too?"

"I haven't checked it for--"

"Malfoy--"

"I think we should go back to that house."

"The-- Why?" she asked, and he glanced over at her, giving a long look at her bag before pulling it off his shoulder. "I'm feeling better."

He gave her a skeptical look. "I think the infection is gone, but you still look like shit."

"Are you suggesting you don't _always_ think I look like shit?" This did not seem to lighten his mood. "So do you."

He huffed a laugh and she gave him a wry smile, accepting her bag when he held it out to her. "If you didn't try killing me, followed almost immediately by--"

"Thank you." She was saying that far too often to him now. "And I'm sorry, you just--"

"What?"

"Never mind."

"What?"

"You smelt..."

"Yeah, never mind. I prefer to be devoured in a completely different way, Gr--"

"Over a fire, with some salt?" Judging by the look he gave her and the twist in her stomach, it was a little too early for jokes. "How do you think it stopped? Just ran its course like yours had, with the fruit?" The word fruit made her stomach growl, and loudly. He looked over at it as she rubbed, wondering if she had any food left in her bag.

"The timing seemed a little too convenient. It might have been the quill. You said Bill backed off then, right?" She must have, some time yesterday before the pain took her under, when she was trying to convince him to release her.

She nodded. "Maybe something in the metal? Or something that got on it and somehow counteracted the magic. Maybe it was different because I was...made into one like that, too. I don't think I had the ability to create illusions, so it was slightly different than Bill, I think."

He shrugged. "We're not going to figure out the magic, so there's no point in discussing it. We'll just--"

"We might, though. If we can find out what caused it to stop, if it happens again we'll have a way to--"

"There's no way to figure it out." He had yet to learn that Hermione didn't accept no way as an answer.

"Let me see my quill." She thought it was fair to demand it when the word my was in there. He gave her a look that told her they already had this discussion, but he didn't seem to understand that either. "You're going to give me my quill, Malfoy, and I want one of those knives as well. What if you turn into--"

"Already. You just came out of some fever I thought you were going to die from, and you're _already_ bitching about--"

"--for safety precautions, it makes sense that we--"

"--insufferable, bossy, vexing woman I have ever--"

"--abrasive, selfish prat, and just look at this in a logical--"

"--starved you, or just left you tied up to the--"

"--dentist conversation, which you seem to have forgotten--"


	21. Part Twenty-One

**August 1; 8:03am**

Her arguments hadn't lasted long last night. She had still been tired, despite all the sleep she had got, and she was too weak and blurry-headed to fight long. He seemed to know it wasn't the end of it, though, considering the looks he kept sending her every time she took a deep breath. She did it a couple times just to watch him get annoyed at what he thought was the prelude to some speech. She was still mapping out said speech, though, so he had a little longer. She took a deep breath, watching him look up at her from the corner of her eye, and bit back a smile.

She had slept like a rock last night, which left a new stiffness to the pain in her shoulder. She knew that moving as little as possible was the best option, but she also knew it was one she didn't have for long. They would have to move on soon, away from where Bill might be - just because he had taken off after he attacked her, didn't mean he wasn't around somewhere. He could have been watching them right then, thinking about-- Hermione shook her head.

She folded the poultice again, starting her third attempt at getting it onto the right spot of her back. Trying to put it down the neck of her shirt hadn't worked, no matter how far she stretched, bent, or poked at it. When the arm from her bad shoulder had swung around to try stopping the poultice from falling, which blistered pain up into her skull, she decided a new tactic was in order.

She turned away from Malfoy, sweaty and red-faced from her effort, and reached up with her good arm to pull the back of her shirt up. She bit her lips as the fabric rubbed against her injury, wiggling to push her shoulder in the spots where the material was drawn up from her skin. She pressed her other hand to the herb-filled cloth over her puncture wound as it threatened to fall, pulling the back of her shirt over her head as she leaned forward.

She paused to breathe, grabbing the stick next to her leg. She didn't know why she thought the stick was a good idea, but if she could just...over just a little...and...higher, _higher_. She gasped at the ache from all her stretching at the wound and the rest of her upper torso, since she was certain no one was _supposed_ to stretch that way. Except for maybe gymnasts and people without bones. Her ribs were going to pop, and her good shoulder was going to split, and then her elbow would break. She would just be able to swing her arm around like a noodle or a ribbon. Like those people who danced with ribbons, except she would be dancing with her disjointed, freak arm twirling about her head.

_Calm down, Hermione_. She took a deep breath and blew it out, but the curls fell right back into her eyes, and her face was still hot. Blood pressure went up when a person became anxious, and that's when hotness and sweating happened. She just had to keep calm and collected, and then coolness would come.

It worked for just a second, for one more push of the stick-speared cloth up her back, and her attempt at calmness went the way of free love. Without the diseases bit, though if she got any dirt in her wound, she would end up with another infection. Malfoy's clothing brushed together as he moved, and she shot her head up to glare at him, like sound had been created to annoy her and that's why he was making it. Everything just had to be quiet, and she had to stop sweating, and it would be _fine_.

The poultice hovered over her wound, but she couldn't get it _off the frigging stick_. She tried to stab it up into the air to make the cloth fly off, but only with enough strength that it would somehow conveniently land exactly where she needed it. She tried to wiggle it around next, careful not to thwack herself, and she growled impatiently. What, was it stuck on there with hot glue and thirty layers of duct tape? Was the world really conspiring against her this much?

She blew three quick breaths up into her face, and then another to get the hair away from its attempt at wrapping around her eyeball. She moved the stick over towards the middle of her back, bending her hand up and over as her wrist creaked and tensed. She tried to _roll_ it, hoping the cloth would _unroll_ from the stick. She held her breath as the fabric pressed against her injury, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of her ear and her arm threatening to noodle itself again.

She thought she got it on there for one blissful second, but when she pulled the stick back it was still top heavy with the cloth. She growled, stings of pain shooting up her arm as she brought it around in front of her, looking at the poultice with a fierce hatred. She wanted to fling it and the stick at least a mile away from her, preferably into a tree, even if it couldn't feel pain. Just to make herself feel better by getting revenge on the stupid thing. _Useless_ , she would yell, and then she would make another one that would somehow work better because it would know what happened to the first one.

She unwrapped the poultice from the stick, pouring the rest of the hot water from the tin over it. She side-glanced at Malfoy, who didn't look like he was doing anything important, or taxing, or _sweating_ at all. He looked up at her from going through his bag, his look expectant. Maybe he had felt her staring at him, or maybe he had been sitting over there comfortably while she nearly broke herself from shoving a stick at her back.

"I, uh..." Maybe she could just stick the dirty side to a tree, and quickly push her back against the clean side, and then just stand there.

He stared at her while she contemplated possibilities, and then returned his attention to the bag. A part of her had been hoping he would offer, and then she could play it off like _oh, you don't have to do that, I can manage_ , while he was already sticking it on there. But no, he had to keep going about his unimportant business and leave her hunched over awkwardly with a wet cloth and a stick. He was going to make her ask. Well, she was _not_ \--

Malfoy pulled his bag up from between his legs and dropped it beside him, pushing up to his feet. Hermione acted like she wasn't looking at him while watching him from the corner of her eye. He knew anyway because he stared directly at her corner-eye look, brushing his hands off before walking over to her. He pulled the poultice from her hand and stepped around her, squatting down.

She was completely unprepared for the breath of hot air across her skin, and she rocked forward so hard she nearly banged her forehead off the ground. She opened her eyes really wide, rolling them to the side as if she could see through the back of her skull to his face. Despite her _what are you doing_ _expression_ , he didn't see it or offer an explanation for his hot air blowing, and then _did it again_.

She didn't jump again, but his action sent a wave of goosebumps up her back, which seemed to cause another spike in the heat of her blood. His cool fingertips touched down next to her spine, brushing down her skin and across to the edge of her wounds. He must have been wiping the dirt from the stick off, and being very - surprisingly - gentle about it. She didn't notice she was holding her breath until she felt the touch of his as he exhaled, and she released her own, shuddering a bit at the end. She didn't know if he had ever touched her gently, except for the moment when she had clasped his hand in hers some time during the fever, but she still didn't know if that had been real.

She didn't think she had ever felt someone else's breath against her back, that gentle caress of air that was doing very strange things to her skin and heartbeat. He rubbed at a spot on her skin with his thumb, judging by the size of the pad, and she could see his hand in her mind. The L shaped scar across sharp knuckles, the shape of his thumb, the ragged tear of his nail. He dropped his hand away, those knuckles skimming down her skin, and another wave of goosebumps rose up in his wake.

He shifted behind her, his breath flitting across her shoulder, and the poultice was pressed carefully against her. "You got the rest?" His voice came out low, which might have been the reason it sounded a little different than it usually did.

She cleared her throat and nodded, listening to him pull away from her as she grabbed the long strip of a sheet from her lap. She threw it over her shoulder and reached down to pull it under her arm, adjusting it so that it was laying over the poultice before bringing the ends together. She tied it tightly and glanced over at Malfoy as he walked back to the bags, her eyes flashing away when he turned towards her to sit down again.

**11:10am**

They walked for less than a half hour before they stopped, Malfoy dropping his bag. "I'd rather you heal quicker and walk faster than travel as fast as a Flobberworm."

Hermione glared at him. Yes, she couldn't keep up that quick of a pace when moving made her shoulder feel like it was going to explode, but she had been pushing herself further than what she should have already. It wasn't like she was meandering along. She hadn't said anything when he burnt his leg and was walking slowly, or when he had come out of that fever, or when she had half-dragged and half-carried him away from the orchard!

"Don't let me hold you back," she snapped.

"Well, you are." He looked at her tight expression, her lips pinched together and her hand on her hip, the other arm cradled to her chest. "Stop taking everything so fucking personal. You're injured, you're slowing us down - it's that simple. No wonder you're such an uptight bit--"

"It is personal! You're talking about--"

"The world isn't rising against you, Granger. Everyone and everything isn't out to get you. You're injured and we have to stop because of it, that's a fact. It's not an attack against your strength, or your worth, or--"

"I don't--"

"--have to take it like it is. You have some serious issues with self-worth--"

"Serious issues? Coming from you, that is--"

"--with your studies at Hogwarts, and then the war, and then trying to save everyone again. Not even a _year_ after and you start--"

"It's not like I _planned_ for it to happen then! It's not about proving my worth, or taking everything personal - unless it is _personal_. I like to achieve things, and _no_ , I don't appreciate when someone tells me I can't, or points out if I'm not doing it well enough. I like to be good at the things I do, and there's nothing wrong with that! I don't have _worth_ issues just because I'm an over-ach--"

"Then why are you taking everything--"

"--and I'm trying to find the plant so I can help people--"

"You're never going to be good enough." He shook his head and hers pulled back on her neck. "Not ever, not with this. The moment you help one person, a thousand more go without it-"

"At least I'm doing something at all! I--"

"When are you going to realize that the world can't be saved? That the moment you do, something else will come along to destroy it? You fight in a war, you try to find this plant - what next? It's not always your fight--"

"It's all of our fight--"

"Eventually you're going to fail."

"And how is that working out for you?" she bit, and immediately felt guilt turn hot at the bottom of her chest.

He held her eyes, his jaw tightening, and gave an infinitesimal nod before looking down at his bag. "I haven't decided yet."

**1:12pm**

"Where are you going?" She picked the quill up from where it had landed on the ground in front of her. He must have decided it was better than having to listen to her arguments for it, but he was still going to get an earful - the quill had never been sufficient, and now that they had two knives, she was going to have one as well.

He gave her the _glance_ and kept walking. It hardly seemed fair that she had to have him lurking nearby when she went to the loo, but he just expected to have privacy for himself. If they weren't supposed to-- Hermione looked over in the direction of the noise, and then snapped her head forward in case he was _right there_. She didn't think he would be in view or anything, but she wasn't risking it. Jesus, that was loud. Height really did make a strong difference in the noise level of peeing. It sounded like he was emptying out a river, even though he must have gone far enough into the trees that she wouldn't see him.

He must have been standing fairly close, though, just with it all... She wasn't going to follow that thought process. She _really_ wasn't.

**3:17pm**

"I wish I was a camel." He looked like he had no idea what she was talking about, and had quickly decided that he didn't want to. "So I had humps."

He opened his mouth, blinking twice at the ground, and she watched the grin slowly form across his face. He gave a short little snicker, and then another, before bursting into laughter. True, honest laughter - not an evil cackle, or a huff, or something mocking. It was deep, and rich, and...pleasant sounding. Full out, eyes shut, head bent, shoulders shaking laughter. She watched him in surprise, her eyes flicking over the changes it made in his face, the white of his teeth, the lines around his mouth. It was-- Well, it was... He looked good with happiness across his face. He looked like she might want to keep looking to trace the lines of it, to remember that this was a face Draco Malfoy could make.

"What?" She laughed a little as she asked, the sound of his contagious to her. "So I could live for weeks without food, and store water!"

It only made him laugh harder, and she bet that he was thinking about something that she might not find so funny, but maybe he wasn't. Red dashed across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, and for a few seconds he was silent. One of those laughs where it's like you press the mute button, or you're watching an old film, and all you see is the actions. She laughed a little harder too, watching his hair fall into his eyes as he slowly gained his composure, and she thought she might want to make him laugh a little more often.

**August 2; 7:04am**

She poured the last of their water equally into a bottle and the tin, capping the bottle before handing it to Malfoy. There was only about two sips in either one, but it would have to be enough. The days since they had last found a water source, and the state of her fever, had drained their supply.

Malfoy looked at the hunting knife in his hand in a way that showed how little he wanted to part with it, and she held her hand out in wait before he pushed the handle into her palm. "Check for the scar. Don't move from this spot unless you absolutely have to."

"I know, I won't. Don't worry, if Bill finds me, I'm sure I'll find you again."

He pointed the water bottle at her, scowling. "That's not even funny."

"Just a little."

"Try in five years, at least. And you had better kill him if he comes. He's an animal, he's not human, and he would kill us in a second. Or do _that_ again."

"I will." She would have to. He was right - Bill wasn't human. She didn't know _what_ he was, but anything with teeth like that, and claws, and that _thought_ the way he did, was certainly not human. And he would kill her - both of them - without hesitation.

"Is that all of the bottles?"

"Yes." He nodded, hitching his bag over his shoulder, and gave her a nod before walking away. "Hey, Malfoy?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful." He looked at her for a couple seconds, nodded his chin at her, and went to leave again. "And food! Fruit!"

She was pretty sure she heard _nag_ in his muttering as he disappeared through the trees.

**4:39pm**

There was an underlying swell of fear as she constantly searched the trees, jumping at the smallest sounds as she kept the knife held in her fist. Bill went to lengths to have them separated before, probably because she didn't appear to have a weapon, but it would have been a lot harder with two of them. Even if both of them fell asleep and he attacked them then, the one he hadn't pinned down could kill him  
\- separation was what he needed before he would come after either of them. If he was going to spring, he would do it now.

She was more afraid without Malfoy there. Not that Hermione thought she couldn't handle herself, or hadn't already proved that she could, but she had known there was more safety when they were together since before they even agreed to be. Now that she knew Malfoy wasn't going to take off running when there was trouble - at least, not without trying to drag her along with him - that feeling of safety had only increased. The danger felt heavier now, and it wasn't until she felt it that she realized how much she had come to rely on Malfoy as an ally.

The island felt a lot bigger now, too. Sitting in the depths of a forest, staring up at the trees that towered above her, she felt a little like a lost child. She was used to Malfoy always being there, and she was usually too caught up in him or her thoughts to notice the enormity of nature before and around her. She was a little...lonely. Even if they were fighting or silent, there was someone else _there_. Someone to look at, purposely ignore, or talk to. His platinum head bobbing in front of her, or the sound of him around her, or even his angry muttering. It had been months since they had gone more than ten minutes without the other - it was starting to damage her. He had become _familiar_. Like a splinter under her finger that she couldn't work out, so she just accepted it as part of everything. It's absence could be adjusted to, but it was still strange without it, still...lonely.

**August 3; 6:13am**

Her tired, drooping eyes flashed wide open at the crunching noise to her right. She listened as it came gradually closer, pushing up to her feet and clutching the knife tightly. She only relaxed slightly when she saw the flash of blond hair, looking him over when he stopped two meters away. He looked as tired as she felt from staying up the entire night, but it didn't mean he was truly Malfoy.

"I'm sure by telling the Wizengamot that you stabbed me to death because you were attacked by my magical clone days earlier, and turned into some murderous creature, they will let you off on insanity." He took two steps closer, dropping his bag.

"Why haven't you asked to see my hand?" She narrowed her eyes, pulling the knife up higher.

He cocked his head, and she could see the dagger in his hand. "Why haven't you asked to see mine?"

"Show it to me."

"Show me yours."

"How do I know you won't try to just make an illusion of what you find--"

He held his hand out, palm up, and she looked at the scar. He rolled his eyes at her distrusting look and jerked forward, grabbing her wrist. "Feel it."

"I could stab you!" She wouldn't really, or she already would have - she was certain it was Malfoy, from the swagger he walked up with, to his voice, to the scar on his palm.

"Touch it, Granger." Her eyes flashed to his at the low rasp of his voice, the teasing tone. His head was lowered as he looked at her, a slight curl to the corners of his lips.

It made her breath catch a little as she held his eyes, moving her fingers down his palm. He had soft hands - the hands of someone who used a lot of lotion, or hadn't done anything with a lot of physical labor in their lives. The pads under his fingers were firmer though, a little rough, probably from Quidditch. Her fingers moved as if to circle them, but then she remembered that she was going in the opposite direction she had to, and Malfoy's smile had left.

She swallowed, hurrying her fingers towards his thumb, and pulled them away the second she felt the bump of the scar. Her hand moved like it didn't know where it was supposed to go before settling at her side, her fingertips oddly warm. Malfoy curled his hand into a fist and dropped it, but he still hadn't looked away from her.

"All right," she rushed. "How did you know it was me?"

"You were humming." He must have been listening to her before she even heard him. She hated when anything watched her without her knowing about it. It's part of the reason she ducked for cover when a video camera came into view.

"A lot of things hum."

"It was the same song you usually hum."

"Oh. Well. What took you so long?"

"Careful, Granger, I might think that you missed me. Feeling clingy?"

He still hadn't moved back a step. Neither had she. Shouldn't one of them be moving about now? "While I've heard life and death situations bring people together - in some cases, forming unbreakable bonds - I don't think life would be so cruel."

He huffed a laugh, and the strange expression left his face. He stepped back to his bag and she stepped back as well, twice. Her heart was thumping in an abnormal beat - it probably recognized that the splinter was back, that was all. She had to be mentally quick for any witty barbs he might throw at her. He pulled a water bottle from his bag and tossed it at her, her arm swinging up to get it and stretching her shoulder painfully.

"A river?" she asked, bending to pick it off the ground.

"I would be more inclined to call it a stream. We'll work our way towards it. I think it flows out of the mountains." He dug around in his bag more as she nodded.

"We'll start tomorrow th-- _A pear_?" She practically snatched it out of the hand he was holding out to her.

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a lift to his mouth at her enthusiasm. He had probably had a similar reaction himself while he was alone. She could just see him hopping around the tree in his giddiness. She snorted as she bit into the pear happily, the mental image of Malfoy too funny to hold it back. She moaned at the different flavor across her tongue, looking up at Malfoy who was staring back at her a little too intensely.

"This is so good." He hummed.

**1:08pm**

One of the big problems with knowing something could be lurking around, waiting to kill you the second it had an opening, was the lack of sleep. No matter how rundown they had been from staying up all night, sleep didn't last long, and it wasn't a good one anyway. A definite snoozie, that just happened to last a few hours more than what her father would have accepted for the term. Every sound woke them up, which was a problem in a forest filled with animals and creaking trees.

"Granger?" He sounded amused, which didn't mean anything good for her. "What were you doing exactly, while I was gone?"

She rubbed a sleepy eye and glared at him with the other. "I was whittling. A lot of the sticks just...turned out to look like stakes."

"Weren't you worried about splinters?" Asked by the splinter himself.

She stood up to inspect just what he found so funny that holding it back was making his face red. "What are you on about? I was--"

"Did you hurt yourself badly? If you--"

"That is a face!" she yelled, jabbing a finger towards where his eyes had been. "That was supposed to be a face."

"Oh?" The laughter was breaking out now, along with the heat in her cheeks. " _Awfully long_ forehead, Granger."

"I didn't finish it because it wasn't turning out right! That top bit is just unformed, and _those are ears_!"

"Right," he laughed, taking the shove to his shoulder.

"I was bored, and--"

"It happens, Granger. Better ways to go about it, but I assure you that any--"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Malfoy," she warned, and he grinned at her red face.

"Did you--"

"Not. A. Word."

"You know, fingers--"

"I _will_ put those stakes to use!"

"Apparently."

**August 5; 11:24am**

"If you don't stop humming, I'm going to shove a stick down your throat."

"You know, I think creativity is only second to intelligence. Some would argue it's second to nothing, but..." She gave him a dirty look when he sighed heavily. "They steal that a lot in cartoons. Uh, these animated... Well, they're animated drawings of things. People, mice--"

"Fascinating."

"--for children, mostly. It teaches them how important creativity is, and--"

"Is that where you learned how to whittle?" He was smirking, and his burning glare on her might have been making the pain in her shoulder worse.

"There's a lot of death in cartoons as well. You would think there wouldn't be, since they are for kids, but-- Bambi's mum, Simba's dad, Little Foot's mum, all those princesses parents--"

"Death is..."

She glanced back in questioning of his trail off, but he was looking at the ground. "It's a natural order of things, but it's very traumatizing to children. While it's something all people are exposed to, on a personal level, many times in their life, I think the world can wait a little longer before pushing it in a kid's face. It's hard enough when their goldfish dies."

"I doubt they would be traumatized by the end of an animated drawing."

"You have obviously not watched Bambi. I became sad every time my mum called my dad 'dear' for _months_ after that." He was silent, and she realized he had no idea what she was talking about. "Bambi is a story about a deer--"

"Everyone is affected by death, children or not. It would be better to expose them to it early, so they could understand what it is. Not that it would help them accept it when they go through it themselves."

"I don't know if _anyone_ could ever fully accept death. I mean, we have to, but... You know, every time I see George I expect to see Fred right behind him. And when I look at Teddy, I-- Well, death is never easy. It might be the absolute hardest thing. The people we love, our own. But it's what happens -- the balance of life and death. All things end. It's inevitable. But at least it makes us appreciate the time we have."

Malfoy stepped up his pace so he was walking beside her. "Would you live forever?"

"Wh-- Immortality?"

"No, putting your initials in rock." He shook his head just a little, looking up at the sky; his silent question of _how was that not obvious_? "I would have to watch everyone I love die."

"If they could live forever too."

She bit her lip, easing her shoulders back to see if it would help the aching tension, but it only sent spasms of pain down her back. "I don't think... I don't know."

Both of them were quiet.

**August 6; 2:09pm**

"You should probably clean that."

Hermione had figured out a way to get the poultice on by using the sheet and some tricky body positioning, but cleaning the wounds on her back was a problem unsolved by her creativity. She had tried to pull a wet strip of the sheet over it and drag the ends back and forth, but she had just ended up bleeding and in pain.

"Does it look infected?" She turned her head to look at her back, as if she could just spin it around like a bad horror movie or her spine would rearrange so she could see. She caught herself doing the pouting-frown that people did when they were trying to look at something on their person, like their chin was a meter long so they had to attempt tucking it in. It was a ridiculous face, and she hated when she made it.

"No."

"Does it look better than it was?"

"Yes."

"So it looks okay?"

"A corpse torn apart by flesh eating bacteria would look better than it was." He had a tendency to exaggerate. Then again, she hadn't seen it.

The cloth she dipped in the small stream didn't make it a couple millimeters above the water before he snatched it out of her hand. "I--"

"I don't need you rubbing it raw again, and having to wait a day before you walk without whining."

"I was not whining!"

"Yes, you were. It was this high-pitched whine that was causing my eardrums about as much pain as your back was you."

She went to respond but jumped forward on a sharp inhale at the coldness of the cloth. She was prepared for it on the second wipe, and it felt good against her sore and heated skin. She dropped her head forward and shut her eyes, leaning back without meaning to into the third swipe. Malfoy's fingers pressed into her back, pushing her so she was hunched over again, and she muttered an apology.

His fingers stayed. Her brain narrowed down to that point of contact, three of his fingertips, the push of them against her skin. She could feel the heat radiating off his body and against her back, and when his fingers skipped to a different section before pushing in again, it wasn't the cold cloth that brought the goosebumps. Typical reaction for a featherlight touch, really - in fact, her mum could sit there all day while someone gave her chills, because she thought it was relaxing. But Hermione was not relaxed. Her spine felt stiff, and she was getting warm, and why was she focusing on his fingers so much?

She licked her lips and swallowed, her throat dry. Malfoy cleared his throat behind her and she wondered if he was also suffering from the sudden dry throat thing. A gust of dry air or something.

"I think I need some water."

"What?" His voice was a little raspy too.

"Some water. Do you want some water?" The cloth paused on her skin.

"No." He sounded a little confused. Maybe it was just her.

"Okay." He breathed a laugh, and the warmth of his exhale traveled across her damp skin. "What?"

He hummed as a response, which she didn't think was a decent response at all.

**August 8; 9:12pm**

Whenever Malfoy was really concentrating on something, his eyebrows would pull down and his nose would wrinkle just a little. She didn't know why he was concentrating so hard, but there must have been something in the state of his fingernails that he found perplexing.

"I had a dream last night." He ignored her. Well, he pretended to ignore her - she was pretty sure that he was always paying attention, even when he did that. "About you."

That got his attention. His eyebrows shot up as his eyes met hers. People were like that - they never wanted to hear about dreams unless they were in them. Sometimes people would lie and tell the person they were in it just to get them to listen - she once heard Ron tell the same dream to five different people, and alter it to include the person each time.

"You were wearing a codpiece." There was no reason she couldn't have a little fun with it, especially since it was a lie. If she had _really_ dreamt about Malfoy wearing a codpiece, she wouldn't be telling him.

"...A codpiece?"

"Yes. It was shaped like a bird. A grey bird. And you were flapping your arms about, and trying to find out where you laid your eggs."

He was giving her the perplexed look now. "How big was it?" "What?"  
"The codpiece."  
She sputtered. "What does that matter?"

"It--"

"It was very small."

"Really?"

"Yes. Very small. _Pea_ -sized, even. I could hardly make it out. I had to use a pair of binoculars just to see that it was shaped like a bird. I was bird hunting, that's why I had the binoculars."

He looked down at his boots, and the perplexed look turned into amusement. "You were hunting for birds, while my...codpiece was shaped like a bird?"

Her eyes flew open wide, a tiny squeak in her throat as she realized the implication. She fought for words for a moment, a blush creeping up her face. "Well, I...I was hunting for eagles. And your codpiece was a...a deformed pigeon, really. Very... It's little beak was, was...very deformed."

He looked to be a second away from laughing at her. "A very beak-deformed pigeon codpiece?"

"Yes, exactly that. It's little beak was like--" She brought her fingers together to make a beak and then demented it. "And it's feet were...were just like this. And it's mouth was...like that, like it was trying to bite you. It was a very, very angry, deformed, _tiny_ pigeon."

He stared at the ground, scratching his thumb over his eyebrow as he licked his lips, and then looked up at her, leaning forward. "Did you find some special mushrooms, Granger? Got a little hungry, ended up having some--"

"So, I ended up seeing an eagle, but it flew down and ate your eggs before you could find them. It was very sad. The dream ended very sadly."

He stared at her while she cleared her throat a couple times and stared at the pear and olives she was frying up. "I had a dream about you last night."

She looked up at him, hesitant about where he was going with this. "Yeah?"

"Mm. I dreamt I was forced to enter your mind. It was like those people who hoard things - just piles and piles of useless shit."

"Useless?"

"Things no one wanted to ever know about. It was stored in the Shit to Bother Draco With section."

"Oh, right, that one." She nodded and grinned.

"There were several portraits of deformed pigeons there as well. Very disturbing."

"A _nightmare_!"

"Exactly that. There was a corridor next to that marked Ways to Be a Swot, which branched off into How To Be Too Uptight - all you could hear was the echo of phantom memory-people as they cried."

"They really do bother me in there." She pulled her knees up, resting her chin on them as she watched him tell the story. He talked with his hands - it was the first time she had seen him do it.

He nodded, standing up before walking over to sit across the fire from her. "There was, of course, a very tiny room marked Sexuality. All I saw in there was a troll and a stick... _face_."

"Most definitely a _face_. And--"

"How To Lie Badly was directly next to it. The cobwebs in the Sense of Humor: Developing section were freaking me out, so I walked past How to Give Draco Nightmares, How to Destroy Draco's Life, the very, very small box marked Creative Insults..."

**August 11; 3:02pm**

_Bah-doomp, buh-doomp, bah-doomp_ , she said in her head every time Malfoy's body went up and then down on their walk down the mountain. She hadn't realized she was saying it under her breath a few minutes before that until he gave her a look best reserved for pre-murder. He always seemed to blame her whenever things didn't work out - not finding anything in the cave or the ruins of a home the past few days must have been _her fault_.

"We should start thinking about how we're going to find the plant soon." The thing about walking downhill was that when you talked, you sounded like it. Her voice rose and fell like the weight of her head was bouncing off her vocal chords.

"And here I was under the assumption that was what we were doing - or has this just been a fun little holiday for you?"

"Yes, I love putting my life in constant danger, remember?" He muttered something that she was glad she didn't hear. "I meant we should think about how we're going to find it _today_."

He was frowning, his eyebrows drawn slightly together. She had to bite back a smile at his confusion, while he still managed to give her the condescending look. "Are you talking about wishing things into existence again?" But it really sounded like _insult, insult, snide look, derogatory name_ _._

"N-- Only sort of. It's like how people have lucky things. A rabbit's foot, socks, shoes, a... _rock_ , whatever. Some thing they see as lucky, that good things have happened to them while they had it on their person. And it's not the _object_ really, but the belief. Harry gave Ron--"

"I really don't give a shit about your heroic trio stories."

_Rude_.

**August 12; 6:57pm**

She really had to learn whatever trick Malfoy used to catch fish. She had thought she would be better once she had the hunting knife, but all she did was savagely stab a lot of mud and rocks. At least she didn't have to retie the quill onto the stick every time she did so, but she felt like she was a lot quicker with her spear anyway. One day she would rule the river. She would learn whatever small trick it was, and she would catch so many fish that they couldn't even eat them all.

"Do you mind if I borrow those?" This was at least the fifth time she had asked him, and he always stuffed the binoculars into his bag without answering her.

He was contemplating now, wiping the flecks of bark from his palms. She didn't know what he had been looking for up in the tree, but she was hoping it was the trail out of the mountains. She hated mountains - steep, high, easy falls to death. Malfoy walked over to her, holding the binoculars out as she bit into the last piece of her fish.

She was glad her plan of timing had worked. Malfoy had formed a new hobby of carving sticks - she didn't know what he whittled since he always turned his back towards her, but it seemed to ease his boredom a bit. She had tried it again herself, ignoring the innuendo behind his questioning, but she wasn't an artist. She wanted to read, and three shrunken books in her bag and a pair of binoculars told her the dream was in reach.

She had seen him picking up a few sticks on their walk that day, so she knew he was planning on butchering them with the angry strokes of his dagger. He would want her to leave him alone, and since he apparently didn't like for her to see his creations, it was the perfect time to offer a way to keep her busy. She took the binoculars from him with a wide grin and a rush of excitement.

**August 13; 8:05pm**

Malfoy was lost in thought, the blade making absent strokes across the stick with no real intention, as if he were trying to keep up appearances. She still noticed the repeated scraping noise enough to look up from her miniature book and see the look on his face. Sometimes, when he didn't think she was paying attention and they had settled for the night, his whole body would get tense with his thoughts. And, if she was looking at the right time, she would see his face turn into some sort of shock-devastation that reminded her of people after natural disasters, or when they lost everything.

And then she would realize that he had - or almost everything, at least. He probably still had his home, his money, and he had his parents, but she wondered what else he had going for him. He had the plant, or at least the hope of obtaining it, though she still hadn't figured out why. She didn't trust him with it. He must have wanted it for his own gain, though _what_ he planned on gaining was a mystery. She didn't think he was going to try taking over the world or something, but she thought he might screw it up. That inadvertently he would mess up something really important, and send the whole world to shambles or something. The power of Floralis couldn't be trusted, not with many people.

Maybe if he told her...maybe she would give him a little leaf or something. Just for what the journey there had put them through, and in appreciation of the near death experiences they had both pulled the other back from. He would have to tell her first, though. She wondered if he wanted to go back in time and change something - or maybe go a thousand years into the future, decades after the last of the Malfoys was thought to have died, and no one knew his name. She thought he might try that one when he got that look on his face. Like he was thinking about the past, and like it still hurt to remember it.

She couldn't help watching when it happened. There was a time, not too long ago, when she would have been happy to see it. Now she was just...curious. Very, very curious.


	22. Part Twenty-Two

**August 14; 4:45pm**

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

The cave was about fifteen meters up a wall of rock, barely slanted as it edged into the mountain. The only possible way to get up to it would be to climb, and not the climbing where she had to hunch over as she walked up steep and rocky slopes. This was actually having to grab little _rocks_ and _crevices_ , and aiming your foot with the best intentions, and _climbing_.

There were a few ledges that branched off from the wall, but there was only one close to the path they would have to take to reach the mouth of the cave. It looked climbable about five meters up, the wall slowly curving more the closer it got to the cave, and more rocks jutting out and dents to use. The first five meters or so were completely off limits - the biggest outcropping might fit two fingers, and the biggest dent would fit a toe. There was no way they could haul themselves up five meters of straight, almost even rock.

"It's impossible."

"Not entirely." He lifted his eyes to the branches above their heads, and she followed his gaze. She looked up at the thick branches, the vines, and back at the wall. "If we climb that tree--"

"And what, _swing_ onto the ledge?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "We'll have to climb about five or six meters after that, but..."

"No way. No. Way. I am not a monkey. I am not Tarzan."

"Suit yourself." He rubbed his hands as he headed over to the trunk.

"You're going to kill yourself. There--"

"It's climbable from the ledge." He pulled himself up a branch, looking up to the next one as he reached for it.

"Those are rocks and _toe holders_. If one of them gives out--"

"Do it or don't, Granger."

She sucked in a deep breath and held it, looking back at the wall. The five meters wouldn't be that hard, as long as nothing _gave out_ under their weight, and they were left with a long fall to the bottom. They would still have to pull themselves up into the cave from the wall, which wasn't going to be easy.

She had to do it. She couldn't let him go in there by himself in case there was magic to deal with, or the plant or some clue to its location was in there. She didn't like this idea at all, though. Not without a wand, or a harness, or some soft, fluffy thing waiting to catch them at the bottom. She had handled a lot worse, though. A rock wall was like a...a bug bite. Yes, a bug bite. Annoying, but nothing major.

She shoved a heavy rock in her pocket before starting to climb, pushing her bag around to rest on her back in case it decided to swing out and surprise her balance. Malfoy was pulling on one of the vines on the branch above her, testing its strength before he decided to throw his whole weight onto it. She was glad he was going first - she would rather be the healer than the broken one.

He wrapped it around his arm, looking distinctly nervous now as he made sure he had a firm grip. The wall was a short swing from the edge of the branch, but he would have to be careful to let go when he was above the ledge. If he waited too long to be sure, he would smash into the wall. If he didn't wait long enough, he would fall almost ten meters from the ground.

She ignored that last thought, not wanting to picture the distance she was now standing from between safety and bone-breaking. She let out a surprised sound when the tree moved, clutching hard onto the trunk as Malfoy ran down the branch above her, swinging out. She watched his feet kicking out through the foliage, holding her breath, and closed her eyes on a wince when she heard him thud into the wall. He came swinging back, smacking into the trunk before he caught a grip on the branches.

He rubbed his forehead viciously, cursing under his breath.

"This--"

She stopped talking when he gave her a glare, tightening his grip on the vine, and then taking off again. She heard another thud, silence, and then the vine swung back without him. Hermione stared at it with wide eyes, just stopping herself from looking down the dizzying height to see if he had fallen. "Malfoy?"

"What?" He didn't sound like he was in a lot of pain, so that was good.

"Just making sure you weren't dead."

"How thoughtful," she thought she heard him snipe, but she couldn't be sure.

She pulled herself onto the branch he had been standing on, her legs shaking a little before they locked, her grip firm on the branch above her head. She licked her lips, swallowing dryly, and grabbed the vine. If it had held Malfoy's weight, it would hold hers. And if Malfoy could do it, King of the Run Away Plan, she knew she could do it too. And better. She would get it on the first try, and she would drop gracefully onto the ledge without so much as a scrape of her trainers.

_Nothing major, nothing major_ , she repeated to herself, clutching the vine like a vice. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of the If Malfoy Can, I Can philosophy, and started running. Her trainer slipped and she tried to jump off crooked with one foot, which ended up swinging her around in a wide arc as she screamed. The scabs and closing wounds on her shoulder pulled painfully, and her back smashed into the trunk, her head cracking off of it. Little white spots exploded in her vision as her feet scrambled desperately for purchase, kicking through air as she swung back again. Her grip was slipping as she choked on her pain, the back of her trainers hitting something that she hurried to stand upon, the vine stilling in its swing.

She whined a little at the back of her throat as she stood on the branch, still digging her fingers into the vine as she bent her head. She pulled in even breaths, waiting for the pain to settle and pass. That had not been graceful. That had been a horrible idea.

"You might--"

"Shut up," she snapped, sure she did not want to hear whatever he was going to say at this moment. "I almost died."

He laughed at her. Actually. Laughed. At her. He didn't seem to understand that swinging wildly from a vine meters and meters above the hard, unyielding ground could result in things like a _broken neck and spine_. He might have been comfortable swinging through the air with nothing but a vine, as familiar as he was with flying on thin objects that weren't safe, but Hermione was _not_. Hermione was libraries, and faded text, and scribbling quills. _She was_ _not a jungle person_.

She lifted her head as her nausea passed, her hands holding so tightly to the vine that they were cramping up now, and found herself on the same branch she had started from. She glared at it like it was entirely to blame for her crooked jump, and took a deep breath as she prepared herself for the next one.

Her trainer slipped on her run again, but she jumped while leaning in the opposite direction to make up for it. She swung up straight, her eyes frantic as she tried to find the ledge. She would rather crash into the wall then drop into open space because she was trying to rush herself, but a pair of hands stopped her before she reached either decision.

She stopped swinging an arm's length from the wall, releasing a quick breath as the hands traveled up from her knees to her hips. She could swear he was burning heat into her from his palms as he pulled her over until she was above the ledge, and she looked down at him. His face was just _a little too close_ to a certain part of her anatomy, but he didn't seem to realize this as clearly as she did.

He tilted his face up to look at her, and she stared back at him, still hanging from the vine. "Comfortable, Granger? Want to stay--"

"Don't drop me."

That shut him up, and he stared blankly back at her, his hands still on her hips. She inhaled deeply, slowly, and relaxed her grip on the vine. She jolted a little as Malfoy tightened his grip enough to make sure her feet hit the ledge, but she landed without a problem, almost releasing the vine in her desire to escape from as much of this situation as possible. She looked at his chest for a moment before glancing up with a nod of thanks. He stepped back from her, his hands dropping away, but she could still feel their heated imprint on her skin as she pulled the rock from her pocket.

"For the way back," she explained, bending to pull the vine onto the ledge and placing the rock over it.

He started to climb first, the wall looking a little less dangerous from their new location. It was slanted enough that they weren't standing like poles on their way up, and there were a lot more places to grab and dig into than what she had thought. She still hated it - especially when she had to climb sideways to put herself in line with the cave, and when pebbles and dirt fell from around her grip. Malfoy was pulling out enough of his own, and she could feel them hitting her hair and her forehead. She was having a little trouble breathing, and her heart was pounding in her throat.

She slipped a little with a tiny cry, pressing herself tightly to the wall as she dug her foot in harder. Malfoy released a heavy breath above her in response. "If you fall, I'm looking in the cave first."

"If you fall on me, I will not be blamed for my actions of survival."

"You'll make a nice cushion at the bottom, you mean."

She glared at his bum before realizing that she was glaring at his bum, and shook her head at herself as they started to climb again.

**August 15; 7:01am**

It was dark by the time they had finished looking around the cave, finding absolutely nothing of importance. There had been a shoe, which was ominous, but there wasn't anything special about it. They hadn't been able to climb down since they couldn't see anything, so they slept a few meters from the mouth of the cave to wait for morning.

She didn't know if they had slept closer together because it was a cave, or they just hadn't noticed until they were already lying down.

Hermione hid her yawn behind the back of her hand, staring out at the tops of the trees, turned golden in the sunrise. Red, pink, and white flamingos were soaring above the leaves, turning to round the mountain as she watched them. It was going to be a hot day. It was one of those mornings where you woke up with your skin already feeling damp, and heat clogging your throat, and even your eyeballs feel a little warm. She would be sweating buckets later, but at least they were still following the stream. She could...dip her toes into the small source of water or something. The flamingos passed over a glimmer of grey in the trees, and her eyes snapped back towards it, leaning forward as if a few millimeters would allow her to better see something miles away.

"I think that's smoke." She turned back to look at Malfoy who paused in rifling through his bag, looking up at her, and then at the trees as she nodded her head towards them. "It's in the opposite direction than where we're going, at least. And if they are coming this way...we have some distance on them."

He hummed, and they both stared at the billow of smoke in the distance.

**12:28pm**

When she was _really_ hot, a part of her just wanted to grab her hair up into a ball and _chop_. Just hack the whole thing off, because she was sure that with her amount of heavy hair, it was making her _brain sweat_ at this moment. What was it, anyway? July? August? It felt like it should have been _December_ with how long they had been gone, but she didn't think the Islands could be this hot then.

She scratched her arm angrily - the heat of the day combined with the rising pressure of her blood as they walked was making her itchy. She tried to pour water over herself to keep herself cool, but it only worked for two minutes before her clothes started baking and turned into hot cloths soaked in boiling water. She then tried squeezing all of the water out while fanning at herself desperately, and trying to _breathe_ through all that humidity taking up her air. She was sure she was going to start melting, and it would be the worst witch dark humor joke in the world.

Malfoy stopped to dunk his shirt into the stream, filling it all up with cold water. He had taken it off hours ago, and she had been forced to watch the unfairness of it all. Which was exactly why she had been staring at his back as they walked - unfairness. How lucky for him to just strip off his shirt when he was feeling overheated. She had thought about doing it herself only to quickly change her mind, but she was seriously reconsidering it now. If she just stayed behind him, and maybe--

He looked over at her with an unreadable expression as he pulled the wet shirt over his shoulders, pushing his hair back, before looking over her head. He was nervous about who was behind the smoke, just like she was. When Malfoy was nervous, he rarely said anything about it, but she could always tell by the way he stopped tapping and how his face would set itself in stone. He would rarely speak, and sometimes she would have to repeat what she said before he heard her.

They were slow moving in the heat, but they just had to keep putting distance between them and whoever it had been.

**August 16; 3:39am**

They walked well into the night, running into trees and branches as they refused to use the torch and give away their location. Malfoy lagged behind her, and she was bone-deep tired, but they kept pushing onwards.

**11:29am**

Hermione separated the pieces of fish evenly between either side of the tin. It had been harder for Malfoy to catch it when the stream had turned into a river sometime last night, but he eventually got one. Malfoy speared a piece at the end of his dagger, and he looked sinister as he raised it to his mouth. His rugged appearance didn't help at all, with the beard that was growing in and his tired eyes. She hoped he planned on shaving soon. She had gotten used to seeing him with a little scruff, not having the luxury of time and supplies to shave every day, but it was getting a little out of hand. It was starting to look like it had when he went a little insane on her. She knew shaving with the blade wasn't easy - she had nearly sliced off several layers of the skin on her leg the other day - but the beard had to go.

"Do you think it's Bill?"

He didn't answer at first, picking at his piece of fish. "We shouldn't separate, unless it's completely necessary."

"Agreed." Just as long as he didn't plan on following her to the loo again. She was pretty sure an okay distance for that was where they couldn't see one another but they could still hear - his river, and her humming. It made longer trips very awkward, and--

She looked up at him, and then down at her dirt-streaked, sweat-sticky skin. That might be a problem.

**August 17; 7:44pm**

Malfoy pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the riverbank behind him, and reached for the button of his trousers. His thumbs skimmed down either side of the trail of hair that led down before slipping under the waist, his stomach rising and falling evenly as he slid the button through the hole. He looked over at her and she snapped her head forward, her face heating up as she stared down at the water. She had done a lot of thinking on the pros and cons of bathing near him, and decided she might be making a bigger deal of it than she should be.

They would be leaving themselves open to attack if they separated, making it a lot easier for a person or thing if they were alone. It was easier, too, when they were busy washing, and weren't constantly looking around them and being prepared to swing a knife out at any second. Hermione liked logic - sticking together was logical, safe.

They had waited until twilight, when they weren't so exposed by the sun, but not until dark when it would hide anyone creeping around them. She had no plans on getting naked, either - her knickers and her bra was what she was stripping down to, and it wasn't like he hadn't already seen them. Maybe not on her, at least not more than the strap in the back, but she didn't think he would be looking over to see that anyway. He had made it clear how he felt about her lack of attractiveness in the past. It was just like wearing a bathing suit in front of people, though she had never worn one in front of him, nor ventured down into the bikini section when choosing one. She didn't think he would say anything anyway, and if he did, she could always beat him with a stick.

She glanced over, seeing that he was starting into the water, and quickly unbuttoned her jeans. She pushed them to her ankles and kicked them off, feeling overexposed as she stood there in her knickers and shirt with him just a few meters away. She walked quickly into the water, not daring to look over him, as if he would sense her stare and turn to look himself. She pushed through the water until it was up to her waist, turning her back towards Malfoy as she pulled her shirt over her head.

She flung it over at the bank, planning to wash her clothes later, once she was clean, dried, and in her post-bath sheet. She opened the small shampoo bottle in her hand, the tips of her ears drawing up at the sound of water splashing behind her. She glanced back quickly, finding him about where she was a few meters away, the top of his shorts just over the line of water. His arm was moving in a way that suggested he was scrubbing his torso or untwisting the cap to his shampoo, his head bent to watch the movement. She turned back quickly, bending to dunk her head under the water, swirling it around to make sure the water fully saturated her curls. She had never noticed she did that until now, at the thought that Malfoy might be glancing over to see the action.

God, this was uncomfortable. First he stands there while she pees, and now he could be watching her bathing habits. No one knew her bathing habits -- she wasn't even aware of some of them. She raised her head, blowing out the water that was streaming into her mouth, and set about washing her hair. She wondered how Malfoy washed his - it wouldn't take him as much as it did her. Did he start at the scalp and work his way out? Or did he just glob it on there and rub it all in? Was he doing it now? She could picture his long fingers working the shampoo into a lather on his head, the-- Why was she picturing that?

She made sure all the shampoo was out of her hair before unwrapping the soap, bringing her leg out of the water to start scrubbing. She fell almost every time she did that, usually not caring if it unbalanced her, but she made sure not to now. She didn't need some huge splash to bring his eyes over to her. She worked her way up her body, blushing when her hand slipped into her knickers, and turned sideways when she brought her hand around to her bum in case he was looking over. She wasn't going to ignore certain parts just because he was over there.

She kept telling herself not to look over despite how easy it was with her new angle. Her curiosity was not usually her downfall, but it was now. There was a small splash from his direction, and her eyes turned that way, her head moving just a little to look over at him. They swung back just as quickly when she saw that he was half-turned as well, giving her a side glance as he worked the soap up his chest. She blinked down at the water, embarrassed for having been caught looking. He must have been uncapping the shampoo before, or he just took a very long time in washing off his torso.

She turned her back towards him, bringing the soap around to her stomach and continuing the upward scrub. She listened to the small splashes behind her, wondering which body part he had moved on to. Her curiosity grew with each second that passed, and she gave into it again as she washed the back of her neck. She turned her head under the pretense of getting a better angle for the soap, though she doubted he would think that if he saw her. Like when people yawn and stretch, just to get a look at other people behind them - but the other people always know.

Suds were running down from his shoulders, over his chest and arms, as he lathered up his forearms. She watched a stream of bubbles glide down the middle of his chest before her eyes flashed up in the direction of his. She froze when she found his gaze on her, before glaring at him with a pointed look, ignoring the fact that she had only caught him because of her own peeking. He didn't look up at her, though, his eyes moving slowly downwards across her skin. Heat rose up in her cheeks as she felt little globs of bubbles slide down her back with his look, feeling flustered and having to stop from submerging herself. She waited for him to say something snide about her very average, normal back, but he didn't say anything at all. His eyes settled on a spot that made her realize she had stepped out of the depths a bit, and her bum was above the water line.

She sunk down until she felt the water against the small of her back, and his eyes darted to hers. She stared back at him wide-eyed, expecting him to turn away, but he just held her eyes instead. She had caught him looking, but she only caught him because she had been looking herself, and he must have known that. They stared at one another for several long seconds that had her heart erratic, and then turned her head away from him, sinking into the water to wash off.

She rubbed her body clean, listening to the sound of his splashes behind her, and then wrapped her soap back up. She looked over at her bag on the riverbank, the patch of a sheet she used to dry off with and the full one she used to cover up with tucked inside. She hadn't thought this completely through - well, she had, but she didn't think Malfoy looking would be that much of a problem.

Maybe it wasn't a problem. They both had exchanged a few peeks in the other's direction, and that had been it. He might have been staring at her bum for a couple seconds, but...well, he hadn't said anything bad about it, and he hadn't looked condescending in any way. Despite the strangeness of Draco Malfoy ogling her backside, at least he apparently hadn't found anything bad about it. She didn't know why this made her feel good, but he was a male, and it was...nice. Even though he should not have been looking. She was ignoring the fact that she had, and the images that refused to disappear from her mind were just _..._ _How to Lie Badly_ was directly next to it. Fantastic. _Just_ _fantastic_. Now his voice was in her head as well.

She walked quickly to the edge of the river, pulling herself out and grabbing her bag on her way into the trees. The glance back at him could not be helped, and she found him watching her again as she left. She pressed a cool hand to her warm cheek as she moved into the shielding of trees. When she emerged a few minutes later, he was at the edge of the water with his back to her, furiously scrubbing his clothes.

**August 18; 5:53pm**

"Are you up for it?"

She jumped at the first words he had spoken to her since yesterday afternoon. Granted, she had felt a little uncomfortable after last night as well, but he could have at least acknowledged her desire to move on and forget about it by talking about stupid things. The silence was not helping her forget _at all_. Every time she looked at him now, she just kept seeing the soap running down his skin, and his eyes traveling her back. She tried to think of a dozen different things, but he was just as unmoving in her head as he was in front of her.

She looked up at the banana tree and nodded, pulling the hunting knife from her bag before dropping the bag on the ground. She grabbed his shoulder as she stepped into his waiting hands, feeling it tense beneath her fingers as he propelled her up. Maybe she just needed some distance. She was far too aware of him at all times lately, so she needed to put some space between them to bring back her sanity. Except they couldn't separate right now - not even just enough distance to hear him walking without seeing him.

The universe might be against her.

**August 19; 10:01am**

Hermione cried out in alarm as her quill-spear grazed the side of a fish, cutting into it as it wiggled violently and swam away from her. Blood seeped out from the wound and into the water, trailing behind the injured fish. Hermione yelled out again, throwing her hands up as she ran after it, trying to keep her eyes locked on the white scales. She had no idea what she was going to do to help it if she could catch it, but she had to try. Maybe she could wrap it up in something, or if all else failed, she would just kill it to put it out of its misery.

"Fish! Fishy!" She snapped her mouth shut when she started calling it like a domesticated animal, but she was _desperate_. She had just speared that poor--

She shot Malfoy a look as he started laughing at her, running faster as the fish got further away from her. It started in towards the deeper water and she made one last ditch effort, diving at it. She surfaced soaking wet and fish-less, Malfoy's laughter the background music to her guilt. She quickly untied her quill and chucked the stick at him, missing by meters, and he still didn't shut up.

**August 20; 12:38pm**

"I've decided that I wouldn't be immortal." He looked over at her, the wrinkle between his eyebrows telling her he didn't know what she was talking about. "You asked me if I would ever choose to live forever, if the people I love could live forever with me as well. I decided that I wouldn't."

She waited for him to ask her why, making it a conversation instead of her just rambling on. He was silent, so she gave him another couple seconds, in case he was trying to gather his thoughts on what he wanted to say. Still silent. She glanced over at him, wondering if he was still confused on when they had talked about it. She had told him she didn't know at the time, but Hermione never settled for that answer unless there wasn't a book to grab, or an opinion to arrive at - very rarely.

"I decided that I didn't want to because a lack of time means less appreciation for what you have. For the world around you. What if you fall in love with someone? Most people can't last a lifetime, let alone an eternity. How many people are you going to lose anyway, because you drift away from them? What kind of person would I become if I live a million years? People change - I would be the same body with a dozen different personalities."

"At least you're admitting that one day you're going to lose it," he murmured. She hated when people did that - made little comments without actually joining the conversation.

"Everything becomes old. Emotions, the beauty of things, hobbies. Who cares about how pretty the flowers are this summer when you're going to see at least ten thousand more, or just _every_ summer, _forever_."

"That's all the time. Most people don't sit and stare at fucking flowers."

"It was just an example. I meant just cherishing moments."

"Moments? You--"

"Yeah. You know, big moments where something important happens, or just ones that make you feel good. Or even just separate today from tomorrow. Like this one."

He turned his head towards her and she glanced up at him, pulling her bag up her shoulder as it threatened to fall. "Are you cherishing your time with me, Granger?"

She rolled her eyes at his amusement. "I'll think of this tomorrow, I mean. I'll think of it, and I'll say, 'Yes, that was yesterday'. But time doesn't always work like that - tomorrow, yesterday. We rearrange time, in our heads. We put our life in an order of relevance, Moments we revere, that make our lives important or special. Living forever - how much of that will you remember? A hundred years, and then you forget about this, this journey we're taking now. And it no longer matters. Why live forever when you're not even going to remember most of it?"

"No one remembers most their life, Granger," he said like it was obvious. "We take these memories that mean a lot, that are significant to our being and lives, and we remember them for that. Because it was bad, it was horrible, or because you were happy. Because it makes you happy to remember. But everyone gets caught up in the present, in forming new memories, and you forget to remember. You think of it maybe a dozen times in your entire life. So what is the difference between being a hundred and forgetting this moment, and living it over again when I'm two hundred?"

She looked at the ground, watching their feet move. "Me." He looked down at her and she met his eyes for a second. "You can never have the same moment. It's different people, it's different circumstances. And if this isn't important, if you're not going to remember this - then what is the point in having it at all? You're just going to be living a different life over and over, without memory of the one you lived before. There's nothing...defining. There's nothing to hold onto."

"You could keep a journal. But I suppose you would argue that it's just words, and you still lose the emotions behind it."

"Exactly."

"Why do you read again?"

"Reading something and living it are two different things - even if they don't always feel like it." A new thought popped into her head and she turned to him, accidentally elbowing him in the side. She hadn't noticed they were walking so close together. "Sorry. What if the world ends? It's going to one day, you know. So what happens when the sun explodes, or the earth does, or they blast off nuclear weapons? No one wants to be here for the end of the world, but you would have to be."

His eyebrows drew together, his nose wrinkling slightly, and she could see the tip of his tongue press against his bottom teeth. "If I used Floralis to be immortal, then I could just turn back time. If the world ended next year, I could go back to this year. Or fifty years ago."

"So you would just keep living the same period of time, over, and over, and over again? Losing track of the moments you lived, of the lifetimes you lived, and the people you met, and all your memories? Just living at the edge of the end, with billions of unsuspecting people, and the absence of time?" He stared at her, and she shook her head. "It sounds utterly, devastatingly lonely."

He slowly turned his head forward, and he didn't respond.

**August 21; 6:04pm**

Hermione yelled out in triumph as she ran out of the river, water splashing up high and soaking into her shirt, but she didn't care. She saw Malfoy jump up from the fire pit he was building and turn to her in alarm, just before she leaped at him. She had only been _planning_ to show him the end of her spear and perhaps grin stupidly, but he had turned, and she was running, and excitement happened. Excitement happened and caused a lot of other things to happen. Like Happy Dances, or maniacal laughter, or jumping onto Malfoy.

He staggered back under the force of her hug, his arm whipping up as he pressed a hand to her back, more for the sake of balance than in hugging her back. She squealed happily in his ear, clutching a handful of his shirt as she wrapped an arm around his neck, waving the spear with the other.

"I actually caught one! He's not very big, but I _caught_ him. I can't believe it took me that long to figure it out. It's all in the wrist, really. Sort of like throwing..." Her excited rush faded when she finally saw the surprised, stiff look on his face and her feet touched the ground.

She blinked up at him, a different heat covering the happy one in her face. Draco Malfoy was not hug material - at least, not for her. By the look he was regarding the area over her shoulder with, he didn't appear to even know what a hug was. She didn't know why she had thrown herself at him like a Gryffindor after a victory, but it was not friendly cheer upon his face. He didn't look particularly disgusted or scarred, but he was as solid as a statue and was slow to meet her eyes.

She pulled her arm from around his neck, her hand getting caught between them at their closeness. His hand slid down her back before dropping away, and she expected him to take a step back, but he didn't. She looked up at the grey of his eyes, his face blank, and cleared her throat.

"I, uh...caught a fish."

He nodded. "I noticed."

She followed his glance up to end of her spear, and made a sound of surprise. "Oh, oh, I have to... Oh, it's just been wiggling there, and..."

She went to move towards her bag but he moved first, the handle of his dagger poking her in the arm. She put her spear on the ground and took it from him, muttering a thanks as she avoided his eyes.

**August 22; 2:22pm**

When she left these Islands, she was going to move to a city. A completely flat city where the biggest slope she had to walk over was a bump in the pavement. Even hills - hills she could handle. She could pump up them on a bicycle and ride down the other side like she used to do when she was a kid, telling herself it would be worth it once she flew over the edge of that hill. But mountains were no longer an option. She tried to keep telling herself it was worth it to find the plant, but then her eyes would start burning from the sweat, her muscles would threaten collapse, and her lungs wouldn't get enough air. It _was_ worth it, of course, but it was hard to convince herself it was going to be just fine when she felt like she was dying.

"I'm never going to feel guilty about not exercising for the rest of my life. I will happily read and be lazy - unless I'm working, of course - and _not_ _care. At all_. After this."

"Stop trying to talk when you're breathing that hard. You sound like an overweight pedophile."

" _What_? How--" She cut off to laugh at him when he tripped over a rock, and he snapped his head towards her with a glare.

She continued laughing at him, even though she really didn't have the extra air to do so, so she ended up wheezing and on the edge of hyperventilating. Hyperventilating laughter - the number one killer of happy people, it had to be. He stopped walking and so did she, sounding a bit like a laughing donkey. A hyena-donkey hybrid, that was what she sounded like. A Donkyena. Malfoy moved in her direction like a sick-with-hunger cheetah, and she jumped back.

"I didn't do it! You can't-" She turned, backing up along the side of the mountain instead of going down and losing valuable ground. She waved her hands, the laughter gone, and then broke into a run when he did. "Stop! I'm conserving energy! Conserving energy!"

He ran after her until she was trying to conserve _life_ , both of them gasping for air as he chased her up the mountain, and she started laughing again,

**8:12pm**

Malfoy was carving something, deeply concentrated on the cuts he made into the stick. She leaned closer to get a look at it as it spun in his hand, her one eye squinting in scrutiny.

"What is that, a penguin?" He glared.

**August 23; 1:35pm**

Hermione hadn't been so full since they ate at that family's home. They had found a small valley of several pear and olive trees, and after extensive testing to make sure they weren't falling into a trap, she had eaten until she couldn't anymore. She was so gluttonous that she was currently lying on the ground, staring up at the sky as she tried to digest everything. Malfoy had made comments about how much she was stuffing herself, but he was laying just a meter from her, and she caught him rubbing his stomach too. Her stomach ached from the amount, because she wasn't used to it, but it felt _good_ at the same time.

"You know how we talked about those jungle people? Who just came out of the woods one day?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder if it works the other way. If people who stay in the wild too long _become_ wild."

He gave her a look. "What?"

"I can be stuck here for five years and you still won't see me turn into an animal."

" _You're_ the one who keeps talking about cannibalism."

" _Starvation_ is different." His gaze made a slow journey from her ankles to her eyes, and Hermione fidgeted, laying her hands over her stomach. "Keep eating and stuffing yourself for me."

She snorted, turning her head to look at him. His hand was moving up under his shirt, lifting the fabric so she could see the smooth skin of his stomach, the golden trail of hair under his bellybutton, his calm breathing. He rubbed, the pressure of his fingers leaving white lines before he curled them, scratching his skin. She could hear the rasp of hair under his cracked and jagged fingernails, like when he scratched his face before he shaved. He had just yesterday, before they left the river to climb the mountain, and she thought it was nice to see the lines of his lower face again.

His fingers stopped and she looked up, diverting her eyes to his chest. His breathing seemed a little faster, or maybe it was just the way his stomach moved compared to his chest. She watched the quicker breaths for a second before lifting her eyes to look at his. He was staring back at her, an odd expression on his face, though she recognized the questioning in it. She blushed, caught staring, and tried to quickly play it off by moving her eyes all over the place, like she was just observing everything and his stomach happened to be part of that.

"I think I could live off you for a month," she told him, in case he didn't buy the observing thing.

"Well, unless you turn _wild_ again, and try to rape me--"

"Wh-- _How_ \-- _What_? I did not--"

"You straddled me, licked my neck, and were on a definite downward path." He smirked at her. "What, exactly, was your intention?"

"Not that! I was following your heartbeat!" It still freaked her out the way her mouth had watered with the desire to savagely consume him.

"My heartbeat?" He raised his eyebrows, his smirk growing into a wolfish grin. "There are a lot of things with a _beat_ inside my body. What was the wild telling you? What was your animalistic urge?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why do you want to know?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "You licked me. I think that gives--"

"The _magic_ licked you."

He hummed, and she could hear him start scratching his stomach again. "I'm pretty sure it was your tongue. Your--"

"If you don't shut up, I might have to complete the job. I'll--"

"Really?" He pushed up on his elbows. "Tell me, Granger, how--"

She rolled over, pushing up to her feet as she took a step and dived at him. She reached for the dagger at his waist but he caught her hands, his exhale hard across her forehead at the weight of her falling on top of him. She tried to twist her hands around to grab his wrists, but his hold was too tight. She twisted her wrist, yanking her hand free, and slid to grab a stick off the ground. He pulled on the wrist he still held captive, jerking her to the side as he leaned up and reached for the stick. She pulled it away from him, but he caught it on her downward strike.

She tried to pull her other hand free and wrestle the stick from his grasp, hauling her weight back, but he only followed. He grabbed the end, spinning it until it twisted out of her fingers, and then flipped them. She reached down for the dagger while he threw the stick but he caught her hand, wrenching both of them up and pushing them to the ground above her head.

He leaned down, his face hovering over hers as they panted at one another, his breath pushing stray curls across her cheek. She looked at the dark grey around his pupils, the lighter shade around that, the flecks of blue. "What was that? About completing the job?"

He held her eyes before his tracked down, over her nose, to her mouth. They followed the curve of her jaw, and down still, to her neck. He glanced back up at her before he moved his head, his breath fanning her cheek, her jaw, and then her neck. Her shoulder twitched up at the soft tickle, and he bent his head further, nudging her jaw to the side with his nose. She tilted her head, just a little, looking at his shoulder as she held her breath.

She could feel the tip of his fringe skate across her cheek and neck, sending a shiver down her bones that only grew stronger when he growled. A deep, rumbling sound that she could swear she felt vibrate across her skin, his breath hot and moist against her, and her own caught. He smelt her, his shoulders moving up with the intake as he moved his face down the length of her neck.

"What was next?"

He didn't move his head, and she knew what was next. Could barely remember the taste of his sweat on her tongue. Her breath trembled in, her heartbeat thrumming wildly, and her deep breath pushing her up, tighter to his chest.

"I, uh..." It came out breathy, _too_ breathy, and his body shifted over hers, settling in a position too intimate for her to think properly.

She took short, shallow breaths, and she knew he must have felt them, pressed against her as he was. She could feel his too, his stomach pushing against hers with each one, and the exhale reaching her neck. He could probably hear the rage of her heartbeat too, with how hard it was pumping, and his mouth that was close to a pulse point. She had to get out from underneath him. She had to clear her mind.

She pushed her legs back and her body forward, rolling them over, his loose grip easy to pull her hands from. She pushed up, sucking in a breath, and reached into her pocket to yank out her quill. She held it over his shoulder, her breathing too fast.

"I think that was it. Unless you want me to--"

She cut off on a held breath as he reached up, his fingertips barely touching her jaw before curling in, his nails softly scratching her skin. He leaned up, just a little, and looked at her. Her wide eyes stared back into his, and just maybe, she might have definitely leaned down, just a little. His fingers ran up, skimming the bottom of her ear and cheekbone as he leaned up more.

Hermione licked her lips, and his fingers skated down to her jaw, his thumb pushing into the bottom of her chin. He tilted her head back and to the side, which is not at all what she had thought he planned on doing, and she gave a look of dazed confusion to the trees. He leaned up more, breath puffing against her skin, and then something hot and wet pressed into the bottom of her throat. Her skin ignited in goosebumps as her mouth dropped open, his tongue sliding around to the side of her neck as he licked up to the underside of her jaw.

"Or-- Yeah, that...that might have been it." She tried, closing her eyes at how stupid she sounded, which was fitting. It was fitting because she couldn't even think.

All she knew was that her hands had dropped to squeeze his shoulders, there was a wet trail drying on her neck, and his breath was hot on her jaw. She breathed out shakily, and his hand slid down her neck, his thumb stopping at the bottom of her throat. She wasn't sure if it was the pulse in his thumb or in her that was pounding so hard there, but she could feel it vibrating up to her tongue.

She tilted her head, down and just a little to the side, the corner of his mouth brushing against hers as her eyes closed. He was definitely breathing harder now, his chest moving as quickly as hers, and he moved his head. His top lip skimmed across her bottom one, and her hands clenched hard into his shoulders. He reached up with his free hand, pulling the quill from her grip, the fingers of his other hand sliding back into her hair. Their lips bumped twice as he moved to toss the quill, and then he pressed his mouth to hers.

Her breath shuttered in so quickly that she almost choked, and she pulled his upper lip between her own. She pulled back, pulled it in, pulled back, and he made a sound in his throat before sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. It turned from hesitancy to something that flared so bright she lost track of even having a mind. Their mouths moved frantically against one another, pushing and pulling, testing the softness and texture against their own. His teeth tugged on her lip, his arm coming around her back to pull her even tighter, and her hands slid up into his hair.

It was soft between her fingers, in contrast to the roughness in which they were kissing one another, and she tugged him closer, noses bumping. He licked the crease in her lip, and she opened her mouth in acknowledgment on a held breath. There was a rumble of noise from him that she felt as the tip of his tongue swirled around hers. She pushed him back, following him into the heat of his mouth, the bottom of her tongue scraping across his teeth. She _felt_ the softness of his gums, the ridges at the top of his mouth before his tongue slid against hers.

She might have been pulling too hard on his hair, and he might have been gripping the back of her neck too tightly, but she didn't notice it. Her head was spinning, her breath short, and her chest felt tight and heavy. All she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears, and his moan when she shifted her body on his. He rocked up against her in response, and her eyes flew open at the hardness she could feel pushed against her.

His eyes were shut, eyebrows slightly drawn down, and when he nipped the tip of her tongue, she decided that maybe she could keep doing this for just a little longer. It felt too good to stop, no matter what warnings the back of her mind was sending up for a multitude of reasons, and she shut her eyes again. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she made a breathy little sound that had his fingers fisting at her back. A war raged between their mouths, one trying to claim more than the other, tongues pushing, and slipping, and spinning.

She couldn't get enough air when he pulled back just a fraction, his lips bumping off hers as they shared breath. His arm tensed against her back as he pushed up, rolling them over in a move that made Hermione think she should have been protesting but couldn't remember why. They weren't even completely turned when he suddenly jerked away from her, pulling back.

Her eyes flew open in surprise and confusion, finding him kneeling in front of her, panting as he stared down at his arm. His hand was clutching it, but she could see a line of red escape from under his fingertips. She stared stupidly at him for a long moment, her brain trying to make sense of things like words and movement. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were a bright red, his hair sticking up in several directions. It did nothing to calm her rapid heartbeat or the way her stomach was rolling.

She pushed up, looking at the ground she had been laying on, and grabbed the quill. The tip of it was shining red in the sun, and she looked back at him, his eyes on hers. All she could hear was the pant of their breath for two, three, six puffs, and she realized her hand was trembling.

"I'll just...the bag." She turned, getting to her feet and walking over to her bag, digging in it for a cloth and some water.

Both of them were silent as she handed them over to him, and he pushed the cloth against the cut. She didn't think it would be too deep, so he wouldn't need any herbs. She licked her lips, swollen, and had one of those moments where any movement felt like it would be the wrong choice.

He cleared his throat twice, both of them only glancing at the other before looking away. "We should start walking."

"Yes," she agreed. Yes, walking. Walking was good.


	23. Part Twenty-Three

**August 24; 4:00pm**

The trouble with ignoring something, or someone, when you are stuck with that someone, and something, the entire day and night -- there is nowhere to go, and nothing to distract yourself with.

It was a freak accident -- they had been full off fruit as if they were drunk off wine. Maybe there had been some sort of...aphrodisiac in it. Some sort of magic that-- All right, she knew that was a lie no matter what she told herself to think otherwise. The fact, the true fact of it all - is that she kissed Draco Malfoy. And if she were _really_ going to be honest with herself - she _liked_ kissing Draco Malfoy. Her stomach had been twisting in a way that did not prelude sickness, the hammering of her heart was not in fear - not completely, anyway - and there had been no intention within the grasp of her hands and fingers to push him anywhere but closer.

Which was wrong.

It hadn't _felt_ wrong, at the time, but in that aftertaste of him on her tongue, there had been _wrongness_. Because Hermione Granger was not supposed to kiss Draco Malfoy and like it. She was supposed to push him away, or get sick, or compare it to an animal attack upon her face. And while it had been a bit...animalistic, he might have felt the same with her own reaction. The problem - one of the problems - was that she no longer looked at him as _Malfoy_. The boy she threw dirty looks at across the Great Hall, who was destined to try and kill her on opposite sides of a battle. The problem was that he had become the man she threw dirty looks at while walking beside him, who was destined to save her as much as she was him. A person could only save your life so many times, and you his, before you start looking at him more for his present than his past. Before you start thinking that, despite everything, maybe he's really not as bad as his mistakes would suggest.

Maybe it wasn't supposed to be a big deal. People kissed - they did it every day. A ton of people were snogging right now, and now, and now. People were snogging people whose name they didn't even know, whose face they wouldn't remember the next day. Were kissing on dares, and curiosity, and need. So, it was a kiss. It was _just_ a kiss. And that didn't have to mean the world shifted, or fell down about her head. Two people kissing - it was that simple. It was _that_ complicated.

She couldn't stop staring at his mouth. She couldn't stop reenacting it in her head; remembering the feel of his lips against hers, the swirl of his tongue, his exhales, that little sound he made at the back of his throat, or his fingers. She hoped he didn't notice.

**August 25; 9:01am**

"I hope it doesn't rain today."

Oh, _God_. The first thing she said to him in almost two days, and it was about the weather. It didn't even _look_ like it was going to rain. There was no reason for her to even come out with that, and he knew it too. He sent her a little side glance - which might have been the first time he had looked at her in almost two days as well - that had her doing a lot of rapid blinking at the trees and ground.

She was not supposed to be this girl. She was supposed to be collected, mature, and assured. Yes, assured Hermione, talking about the weather.

He didn't respond, and she pretended he hadn't heard her.

**3:31pm**

She hissed as her hair got snagged by a branch, some strands ripping out from when she had been still walking along unaware. She reached up to untangle it from the little leaves and twigs, scowling at the ground, and looked up when Malfoy's footsteps stopped fading away and grew louder. He walked back to her, reaching up to where her hair had been caught. She stared at his chin, and might have spent a little too long looking at mouth, before looking up to the bottom of his eyes. The last time he had seen this happen to her he had laughed, but he had also been behind her and managed to catch the whole head-snapping moment. He also hadn't lifted a finger when it took her several minutes of tugging, breaking, unwrapping frustration.

Her hands were undecided between trying to help him with the tangle or just returning to her sides, so they froze in some monster claw pose in the space between them. He rocked forward as he reached somewhere behind her head, and her knuckles grazed his shirt before pushing into the firmness of his chest. He looked down at her as he finished pulling her hair from the branch, and she looked back up at him with a shy smile.

Which wasn't what she wanted to go for at all. Shy smiles were not supposed to exist on her face for him, but there it was, just turning up the corners of her mouth. She reached up run her hand over her hair, pulling out a stray leaf.

"Th--"

"Keep up, Granger. I want to get the fuck off this island."

Her manners and gratitude died in her throat as he turned, walking away. She narrowed her eyes at his back, flicking her fingers hard on the little leaf, but it just softly floated down in front of her. There was really no reason for him to use that tone with her. If he was angry over what happened, then _fine_ , but that was not her fault. If she had to remind him who did the _licking_ , she would. People couldn't think straight when a person licked their neck - it had to be a proven fact somewhere. If anyone was to blame for this, it was _him_.

She sniffed and smoothed a hand over her hair again, following after his rapidly retreating back.

**August 26; 7:20pm**

He whittled and she read with the binoculars. The only sound around them were the ones they had grown accustomed to from the forest, the cut of his blade, and the turn of her miniature pages. She had caught him scowling at her a half hour ago, and when she scowled back at him for more than thirty seconds, he had started chopping away on the stick.

She hadn't been aware that kissing him could shut him down more than he already had been. If he had been a fortress before, he was so untouchable he didn't exist now. He acted like kissing her had been one of those Very Bad Mistakes that he was prone to making. And maybe it had been, but she didn't see what was so wrong about kissing her. It's not like she was bad at it -- she never had any complaints, anyway. He had...well, she had taken them for approving noises.

Maybe he just realized how screwed up it was - the two of them, together, in that sort of way. She had been telling herself for days how wrong it all was, but that didn't mean she had gotten it out of her head. It didn't mean she had managed to convince herself to...regret it, exactly. Kissing him had kind of made her explode a little. In a good way. In a _really_ good way, but it had scared her too. How easily she had lost logic, and control, and how hard it made her heart go. She didn't think that was supposed to happen. She didn't think she should have reacted like _that_.

It had obviously been some unexpected, freak happening. She would never have _thought_ to kiss him - it just happened. It happened, it wasn't horrible, and now it was done. They should be acting like adults while they moved on from this - ignoring it entirely by pretending it never happened, and that was by acting like they had _before_ the...thing that never happened.

So, fine, if he had changed his mind, or it was some weird moment to never be repeated. But he could at least have the decency to stop ignoring her. It wasn't like she was going to attack him when he opened his mouth or something. She glared at him - he wasn't that good.

**August 27; 4:02am**

She pushed herself to her feet, her eyes groggy as she stumbled a little to the side. She grabbed the hand sanitizer out of her bag as she turned for the trees, glancing over at Malfoy. Her shoulders jumped in her surprise to find his eyes open and looking back at her. She lifted her hand and waved in response. Waved - a little _hello, I'm off to pee_ wave.

She shook her head at herself, blaming him for being a creep who woke up at the smallest sound, and who watched her while she went off to use the loo. She hoped her humming prevented him from getting any sleep.

**12:48pm**

She spotted the river, the one they had left in order to climb and then circle the mountain, and Malfoy started walking down it again. She had thought they would refill their water bottles, cross it, and head over to a new set of mountains, but he just kept walking. She couldn't be sure since she wasn't the one with the binoculars and a penchant for tree climbing, but judging by the steady downward slope of the river, they were heading _out_ of the mountains.

She pointed this out to him, and watched him blink slowly at a tree before glancing over at her. "What? Are we done with the mountains?"

He made a sound that could have meant _anything_. What, did he not have the ability to form sentences anymore? He was back to being a robot, and freak accident that was not-so-much accident or not, she wasn't going to follow behind him like a mule. He could at least give her an answer, an explanation to his decision. She was almost positive they were heading out, and if he didn't think so, she would like to adamantly disagree, at least.

"I would appreciate a better response... Are you under an enchantment that makes you silent? Have you forgotten words, or how to string them together?" He made a sound again. "Don't grunt at me. You sound like a--"

"We're leaving the mountains. How hard is that to fucking comprehend."

She gave him an affronted look. "How hard was it to just confirm that? How am I to know if you didn't screw up the direction, or--"

"I'm not one of your idiot friends, Granger. I have a brain, and I know when--" "I beg to differ. If you had--"  
"Beg all you want."

She pushed ahead of him, sniffing when he snorted at the action, and put her nose a little too high in the air. "Big, tough guy, Malfoy," she muttered. "You don't even...with your... I'm surprised they don't clank together!"

She said the last bit loudly, looking back at him, and the expression on his face said she was out of her mind and he was glad he wasn't being a part of it.

**August 28; 8:14pm**

"Fuck!"

She scrambled to her feet at his yell, just a second before he dashed out of the trees in front of her. He stopped at her bag a meter from her feet, and started _going_ _through it_. Just _rifling_ through her bag like that was okay. She made to protest, anger wrinkling her brow, when she spotted the two streams of blood coming out of his hand. She stepped closer as he pulled a square of cloth from her bag and wiped the blood away.

She could see two little marks on his hand before the blood covered them again. "Is that a snake bite? Did you get bit-- You have to suck on it! No, suck on it! If it had venom, you have to suck it out!"

He lifted his hand to his mouth, looking distrustful, and she whipped her hand around for him to hurry it up. He closed his mouth over the bite, his cheeks pulling in as he sucked, and he looked at her like he might murder her if she was lying.

"Don't swallow! You have to spit it out. Suck, and spit. That's it. Keep sucking!"

His left eyebrow was twitching as he dragged his eyes away from her, and she wondered what he found funny. This had better not be some weird joke he was trying to pull. Snake bites could be very dangerous things. They had no way of knowing if it was poisonous and would kill him in a minute flat. It was hardly the time to be holding back laughter.

He spit and glanced over at her, and she gestured for him to keep going. "Suck it harder. You--"

Her head pulled back as his hand pulled from his mouth with a pop, his laughter filling up the careful spacing between them. "Tell me you're not doing that on purpose."

"Doing what? You really have to suck the venom out, or--"

"Suck it harder? Really? You cannot be that nave. Y--"

"You are-- God, you are so infuriating! This is a serious situation! I hope your arm falls off, really." She sniffed, turning away from him as she walked back to her book. "And you had better keep _removing_ that venom, before something happens. Wash your mouth out, too. And _your mind_."

"That's not perversion. Anyone who knows anything about sex would have--" "Unless maybe there was a _snake bite_ in--"

"--uptight twat."

She blinked slowly at him and then narrowed her eyes. She thought to point out how _she_ wasn't the one who had frozen up like a statue the past several days, but thought better of it. It would likely bring on his angry silence, and she was getting very sick of silence. It wasn't her fault she didn't think of sex every time something hinting at sexuality came up. She certainly didn't think of herself as a passionless blob, but she figured she was too intelligent to think of sex at any little innuendo. She would never be a _that's what she said_ person.

Uptight twat, like she hadn't just snogged him a few days ago and lost half of her control. _That_ was insulting. She couldn't help but wonder if a part of her kissed like that - uptight, bland, or like she was going through the motions. It didn't _feel_ like she did, especially when all she had been doing was _feeling_. She had never been so _thoughtless_ with any other kiss she has had. Hence, why it happened in the first place.

He could call her that if he wanted, for now. But she would have her revenge - if the bite didn't take him first.

**August 29; 1:43pm**

Malfoy had given her a patronizing look when she had told him she thought they were walking in circles, and she would have given him a smug look now if she wasn't too bothered by her correctness. She grabbed the back of his shirt and stopped, twisting the fabric from her loose grip. He looked at her before following her eyes to a tree to their right, the light brown slash across the bark from her knife. The problem was that it was on the right - she had only been marking the trees they passed, and they had only been walking _straight_. It should have been behind her, but it was _there_.

She looked behind her, not spotting any trees with the slashes on them, and looked back at Malfoy. "Vines. We need vines."

**4:23pm**

Malfoy tied the new vine around the branch, next to the end of the vine they had been using. There was a long line of vines behind them, connected together across the trees, marking their path. Malfoy walked forward, his hands sliding down the line as he kept it taut and waited for the end of it. Hermione kept her eyes behind them, waiting for what she knew was going to happen eventually.

They got four steps before it shifted, _finally_. If it hadn't been for the disappearance of the vines, and the sudden curve at which Malfoy was holding the current one, she wouldn't have even noticed. The trees, the ground - everything looked the same. There was no blur of movement, or even a twitch of a branch.

Malfoy turned around, tugging on the vine and looking to his left where the line they had formed was now sitting. Hermione took a step back and he followed her, another, another, and then the line shifted back behind them. She reached out to push Malfoy a step back, the vines moving to her right again, and then pulled him forward so they were behind her. He went to pull her hand away but it was already gone, and she was too busy staring at the air in front of them to see any face he might have made.

"So we found the wall - except this time _we don't have what got us here_." He had been pointing this out at random intervals the past hour. She had got his point the first time.

"We just walked into it. There must be a way out." She stuck her hand out, watching it shift, and then brought it back.

"There isn't always a way out of these things. If we hadn't had the water when we were trapped in that other one, we would be dead there by now. It's been--"

"Aha!" She grinned up at him, waving the stick a little too enthusiastically next to his face.

He grabbed it to stop the wide swing, and they both seemed to remember the same moment at the same time. He pulled his hand away from it quickly, and she lowered it from the vicinity of his face. She nodded her chin at the invisible wall and pushed the stick through, and both their heads turned to see that the vines hadn't moved.

"Wonderful. Shall I turn myself into an inanimate object now? Perhaps--" "Sh, look."  
"...What?"  
"Line your hand up with mine. Just do it. Now move it at the same time." They looked to see that the vines had switched. "Gr--"

"Now move your hand back, while I keep mine here." He did, and the vines moved back to behind them.

"So, we have to walk through it together?" He looked confused, and it only got worse when she shook her hand.

"Look, if I move my hand up past where it's holding the stick, the vines turn. But if I pull it back to where it's just holding the stick..."

"Having the object touching your person then."

She nodded and dropped the stick, picking up two leaves from the ground. She wondered if it was unhealthy that she wasn't just excited from possibly finding the way out. The magic holding them in was only dangerous if they didn't figure out how to break it - there were no killer creatures or chances of drowning here. So she was also excited by the _puzzle_ , by the chance to solve something in front of her. A little mental stimulation that was about outsmarting more than outliving.

Her fingers turned the vines right, but the leaf on the back of hand turned it behind them again. The bottom of her hand turned it right, the leaf on her wrist turning it back to normal. They could walk out just as long as they were—

"Get the water out, we have to make mud."

" _What_?"

"Mud. You make the mud, I get the leaves."

**5:03pm**

She rolled out of the pile of leaves, making sure she was pretty much covered from her head to her feet. Malfoy glowered back at her, covered in cold mud, and she ushered him towards the pile. He gave a hesitant step, sighed, and glared at her as he sat down. She didn't laugh at the sight of him rolling around in a pile of leaves since he had refrained when it was her, but she had to turn away to hide the smile.

She picked up a handful and smacked it onto her trainers, catching the one that fell from her shirt and pushing it back on. "You had better hope this works, Granger, and that you didn't force me to throw myself in the mud like a pig for no reason."

She didn't know if she would ever forget the sight of it - the disdain on his face as he rolled around, turning a deep brown as globs of mud fell from his skin. There was a part of her that was very excited to tell Harry and Ron she had Draco Malfoy turning circles in a mud pit with her, even if she looked at him differently now. The girl from Hogwarts was laughing hysterically inside her chest.

"I think it would confuse it even more if we walked through at the same time."

He raised his nose at the state of his person, giving himself a scornful look as he picked up his bag. She shouldered her own and they walked in step towards the wall, waiting for some sort of explosion or nothing at all. They got the latter as they looked back, not seeing the vines and not finding them anywhere around them.

"Ha!" she yelled at the invisible wall, careful not to step back into it.

Malfoy gave her an incredulous look, pulling a leaf off her nose. She grinned, pulling one off his forehead before laughing at him. "You look just as ridiculous, Granger, trust me."

"But it's more funny on you," she laughed, pulling another from his chin. "Look like a big-- Like when people go around pretending they're Big Foot."

"Big foot." He pulled one from her above her eye, and then her cheekbone.

"Yes, this animal in the Muggle world who people can't decide is real or not." She pulled a leaf from his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his eye. "It has big feet."

"I gathered that." He grinned, his teeth a contrast to the mud on his face, and she laughed at him again.

**August 31; 2:01pm**

"There's so much space here. I don't think any of us realize how much space we all take up until we're out here, in the open, where people haven't settled."

"Are you talking about all the voices in your head again, Granger?" "I meant us as in--"  
"I know."

"Good. Didn't want to think you were that stupid." She grinned at his dirty look. He hated when she did that. "You know, there's a quote about time and tide. It's something like - time and tide waits for no man, but in this current world, no man waits for time or tide."

"Groundbreaking."

"That's what we do, though, as a society, as a world. We focus on turning back the natural flow of a river, we _build_ rivers. We want everything _now, now, now_. We use things like Time-Turners, and fast-food restaurants. We always have to be going, and we're never satisfied. We want something faster, we want something slimmer, something easier, something better. We've forgotten this, and simpler things - and I think we've lost something because of it."

"What could possibly be wrong with changing things so they're better?"

"They're never going to be better, though. They're better for five seconds, and then they're just not good enough. We've stopped learning how to really appreciate things, because we're too impatient, we're--"

"And you want to find a better way to heal people, even if it means turning the body back. Even if it goes against the natural flow of things. You're not waiting for time and tide either, Granger. You want something faster, something easier, something better."

"But it's to help people. It's not a mobile, or a car, or a broom, or--" "It's still--"

"One day we're all just going to sit there in a chair, and get injected with everything we need to keep the body running, and something will cast emotional illusions on us of happiness and love. A press of a button or a flick of a wand and the person we want to talk to will be there, but it will just be a simulation, a clone, because the real person is too busy pumping their emotional illusions. Everything we want, right in front of us, as soon as we want it. We'll live forever in a box of pretense, in our artificial worlds. And we still won't be satisfied."

He looked at her, and she was slow to calm. "Maybe that's the tide, Granger. Maybe that's where we're headed."

"The tide is natural - it wouldn't lead to that. I don't understand why we can't take what we're given and be happy with that. Take it and make it into something better that's real. Everyone wants what is easy - but happiness, love, freedom, satisfaction, they aren't easy to obtain. They aren't supposed to be. So when they are, they don't even matter anymore. We can't look at it and say, 'This is what I've worked for'. The easier it is to get, the less we notice it. I don't want to live in a world where emotions, where _connections_ become obsolete."

"Of course not, Granger. You're a bleeding heart. You _thrive_ off your connection to the people around you. You wouldn't be anything but an encyclopedia without it. If you're not off trying to save a dying toad, you aren't complete."

She didn't know if she should take that as a compliment or not, but she did. "We would all be zombies without it. Even you, Malfoy, as much as you like to pretend you're a sociopath. Completely artificial beings - robots, or as void as a teacup. There would be no purpose to our existence."

"Sociopath?"

"It's like the people who want to turn back time. Who look at a mistake, or a lost loved one, and want to go against time. Why? We all have to lose things, as hard as that is. Who knows how that would even work out for the person. There is no guarantee that would possibly make them happy, or make for a better life. And they lose the person they became because of it. Imagine if we could do that? Live the past over and over until it became perfect--"

"You do realize that we did that, don't you?"

"We just did it once. And if it was someone who did that to us, that we needed to be protected from, then we likely went back to protect the world too. If this plant got into the wrong hands-- I can't even imagine the devastation it would cause. I'm talking about the people who want to go back for something else - to fix a mistake to make a better life. Why can't they just make it from what they have? Build some character with it, too! They would be better people for it. Finding satisfaction with what we have, and working for happiness. _That's_ how it matters. How life matters at all."

"So what happens when you don't have any emotional connection to anything you have? Shouldn't a person be able to throw that away and find something else?"

"Then you find something that you connect to. It's like building a mountain. Sometimes it's a volcano and it explodes up, but it's usually slow to build. We have to search for it, we have to build for it. Journey through on the natural progression of the tide and find more things to form it. We're building mountains, Malfoy."

"You hate mountains."

" _Jesus_ , I hate mountains." Her voice came out a little hoarse from all her talking, and she rubbed her throat. Malfoy smirked at the action. "Don't think I'm going to lose my voice over there."

"I'm building mountains of hope."

**September 1; 7:58pm**

"Is that a penguin?" He was sarcastic, and she gave him a smug look in return.

"Yes, actually." She held up the penguin she had been trying to craft out of a chunk of thick branch.

"It looks like a deformed pigeon."

She went to glare at him and then remembered why he had said it, giving him a knowing look instead. "My penguin could beat your penguin, any day."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. She is highly skilled in combat--"

"All stocked up with Gryffindor courage, and leaping before looking while hoping for the best?"

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

**September 2; 2:48pm**

She didn't think anyone should be allowed to eat oranges like that. She couldn't even help but stare as his tongue ran under the slice, catching the juice, before his lips closed around it as he bit down. He pulled half of the slice away from his mouth, his tongue darting out to catch the moisture from his lips. He chewed, the muscles in his jaw working as his eyes grew hooded from his enjoyment of the flavor. He opened his mouth, long fingers popping the second half into his mouth, and he licked his fingers before reaching for another slice.

He chewed, a small lump in his cheek as he looked over at her, his eyebrows drawing together for a second before he smiled. She gave him a confused look, and he turned his head back around just as she tripped over the bush she walked into. Prat. He could have warned her. Stupid oranges, and fingers, and mouth.

**8:28pm**

He was making little notches in the stick in front of him, in no specific pattern, so she knew he wasn't planning on making anything with it. He must have been one of those people who had to keep their hands busy while they thought about something. It was like how he tapped all the time. Either that or he was trying to cover up that he was thinking so hard about something, but she wasn't blind. It was probably some sort of thing he learned in Slytherin - look busy so they don't catch on to you.

"My flesh is crawling, Granger," he snapped.

"I don't blame it, when it has to be attached to you."

He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but he paused, and whatever he was going to say was lost under second thought. She had a feeling where he was going to go with it anyway, and she met his glare just as vindictively.

**September 3; 12:11pm**

She had felt like a survivor when they emerged onto the white, pumice stone coast of the island an hour ago. While she wasn't letting her guard down in thinking there wasn't any magic along the coast, she felt a lot safer there than in the depths of the forest. They had never encountered Bill, shadows, figures, or dangerous men there - not that they wouldn't, she had to remind herself.

She yelled out in triumph at a fish on the end of her spear, and she could see Malfoy brace himself a few meters from her, sending her a side glance. He looked like a zebra that just caught sight of a prowling lion, and wasn't sure if it should try to turn invisible or start running. She hadn't realized that hugging him one time could scare him for life - she couldn't help her excitement. He was lucky he had never seen her Happy Da--

Hermione very quickly stopped all twirling of her hips and wiggling of her shoulders, muttering about undertow and pretending she had an itch at the same time to play it off. It failed bitterly, but she ignored the look he was giving her and made her way back to the shore. No one had to know that ever happened. They could peacefully carry on in ignorance.

**September 4; 5:54am**

She woke up to find her penguin lying on the ground, Malfoy's standing on top of her head. A sliver of fish bone was stabbed into her flipper, and even his penguin looked smug. Sneaky little Slytherin penguin.

She squinted her eyes at his, picking it up and making tracks in the dirt as if it was running away. She stood hers up and balanced the fish bone on the shoulder in a bad sword placement, and wrote REVENGE in the dirt in front of her. She looked up at Malfoy's sleeping back and grinned, knocking his penguin over.

**4:29pm**

They took turns bathing in the hot springs they had found next to the empty grotto. She used the last of her soap up, dissolving into suds somewhere around her ears. She still had some shampoo that she could use for her skin as well, but it was just enough for maybe one more bath - and she would have to save that for right before they entered the city. It would be days, if not a week, before they got there. At least the days were starting to cool down.

**September 6; 10:25pm**

She grabbed the back of Malfoy's shirt on reflex as he fell forward, jerking him back so hard that his shirt tore at the neck. His foot crashed down behind him as he flung himself back in the motion of her pull. His back slammed into her, heat flaring up her nose as it smacked into the back of his shoulder, and they both fell. Her body jolted against the ground, her bones jarred as Malfoy landed on top of her. He scrambled backwards, over her, the pressure of his hand on her stomach robbing her of the short breath she was trying to pull in.

She cradled her injured nose, the warmth fuzzy in her face, and she felt liquid against her fingers at the same time the blood slid down the back of her throat. She groaned, pinching her nose as she sat up and tipped her head back, giving an angry side glance to Malfoy for his metal-lined bones. He was staring at the spot in front of them in disbelief, like he never could have thought the ground would try to trip _him_.

"You broke my nose with your--" He pulled his leg up, cocking his head to look at the bottom of his boot. "You act like you never tripped before, so other forces had to be--"

He yanked his boot off and turned towards her, pausing at the blood. "Th-- You broke it?"

"It's not broken, but _if_ it were, it wouldn't be _me_ who did it."

He didn't seem to care about his face, shoving his boot a little too close to her own face after his shoulder just rammed into it. She leaned back, giving the boot a scornful look, but stopped before she aimed it toward the owner. She squinted her eyes and reached out to touch the indents in the sole.

"Are those _bite_ marks?"

"I didn't _trip_. My leg went through the ground."

She pulled her bag around, searching for one of the squares of cloth, and pulled her hand away from her nose. She waited for anything to come out, but the bleeding had stopped. There was no hole, or ditch, or dent, or _anything_ in the ground Malfoy had stepped on.

"Malfoy--"

"Try stepping on it."

She stared at the spot, and then at the boot he was pulling back onto his foot. "Good thing you didn't slip in more. With bite marks like that, it would have torn your foot off."

He gave her a look, either for belittling the traumatizing experience or because he already knew that. "Go get some water for that."

She glared at him over her fingers as she stood. "I'm going to, because that had been my plan. You check to see how big the hole is."

"I--"

"Try not to fall."

**7:42pm**

Not a lot of distance could be covered when a person had to check each step before they took it. The large holes were randomly spread out across the ground, so they could walk a mile before they encountered another one, but they still couldn't see where they were. The ground looked normal and solid over each one. She had tried using a long stick to feel the way in front of them, but the holes didn't open for it. They had to tap their feet forward with every step to make sure they weren't going to fall through, which put them at the pace of a dying crawl. Malfoy's scowl grew deeper the longer they walked.

"At least we know this won't last forever. It has to end some time, and we'll probably deal with the last of it tomorrow," Hermione tried. She liked to find the silver linings as much as possible.

Malfoy didn't even look at her as he finished making sure the area around them was hole-free. She wasn't sure if he understood the concept of silver linings. He seemed more like a dark center of the cloud person. He sat down a few meters from her, leaning his back against a tree, and started going through his bag.

"It's hardly the worst we've--"

"Surely you've learned by now that your babbling chatter does not improve my mood."

Her mouth snapped shut before she muttered angrily to herself, and he seemed to relax with her darkened mood.

**September 8; 9:38am**

"I had a dream about you last night." He looked at her knowingly before returning his gaze to the cliffs lining the beach. "You were wearing pink tights and pirouetting to tragic love songs as you cried. You danced with a ribbon, too. A big, feathery ribbon."

"I must have been very famous."

"No, sadly. You lived in a grass hut, and wanted everything. You couldn't get past the untimely death of the only elf you ever loved." His lips twitched. "You killed her, actually."

"I killed the elf I loved?" Saying it almost made him break into laughter, but he found the grin back.

"You did. You were spinning and spinning, and you accidentally kicked her right in the head. Then your feathery ribbon wrapped around her neck. It was an absolute tragedy. You went on school tours promoting safe ribbon use. It was devastating."

"I'm glad my dream life sounds worse than this one. A dead elf lover or Hermione Granger. Actually..."

She glared at him, but it had no heat. She watched the cliff walls for a few seconds, searching for a cave or anything important looking, but it was the same thing they had been looking at since yesterday. "Well?"

"You'll have to be more specific, Granger. I would need a library, magic, and insanity to know what's going on through your head at any time."

"Did you have a dream about me?"

He laughed, or breathed out loudly, and she didn't turn her head in time to catch the look he flashed her. "You don't want to hear about mine."

"Yes, I do." He was silent, face forward as she looked at him. "What, did you kill me?"

His eyebrow came up. "Well, you were screaming," he muttered. "That's not very creative, Malfoy."

He smirked, and she eyed him in suspicion.


	24. Part Twenty-Four

**September 9; 7:03am**

He had to be doing it on purpose. No one ate fruit like that. Maybe he just really liked oranges. She was going to make him eat them behind a tree or something from here on out.

She watched the slice slide across his bottom lip before slipping into his mouth, his teeth raking over his lip to pull the moisture off. He chewed, his hand paused in front of his face as he looked at a drop of juice sliding down the back of his thumb. Hermione narrowed her eyes as he swallowed, the tip of his tongue pressing into his skin as he licked his way up the wet trail. She felt the phantom brush of it across her neck, and her eyes snapped up to his.

She cleared her throat when she found him looking back at her, returning her attention to the pear in her hand.

**September 10; 12:12pm**

Hermione wiped the sweat from her forehead and looked down the three meter drop into the sea. She tugged on the vine in her hand, trying to determine distance and speed, and backed up. She hadn't done this since she went to her aunt's lake house in her summer of thirteen, but it was the only sort of flying she ever really liked.

She pulled the vine tight and wrapped her hands around it, running to the edge of the rock shore. She jumped on a laugh, clinging to the vine as she swung out high over the water, her stomach shooting up as she lost a sense of a gravity for a split second. It felt like she were going to keep flying up, get caught in the sky forever, and that's when she released the vine. She flew back for a second with the momentum of her weight and then dropped, kicking her feet and spinning her arms, before crashing into the water.

She had landed where it wasn't very deep, but it was deep enough that when her feet touched the bottom of the sea, they landed gently, and she shoved herself up to the surface. She emerged with a grin, laughing at herself as she shoved her hair back. She turned for the sandy shore next to the rocks she had jumped from, and saw Malfoy standing up in the water to his bare waist, glowering at her.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she swam back. "Did I somehow splash you? Get your hair wet when--"

"You scared my fish."

" _You_ scare your fish." She laughed at him. "I'm not the one hovering over them with a dagger."

"I'm aware of your uselessness. But, please, jump off a cliff." He motioned towards the rocks.

"Since you asked nicely..."

He turned his head to scowl at her some more, so she shoved a splash of water at him. He stood completely still as it hit him in the face, the water dropping to reveal his closed eyes, and his hair pasted to his head. He pushed water out of his mouth, and opened his eyes at the sound of her laughter. He bent down, pushing his arm into the water, and his hand came up without the dagger.

"Oops. I hope it didn't scare your--" She got a mouthful of water when he sent a large wave at her head, and she went to spit it out only to get another. "Mal--"

She gurgled the rest of his name, shutting her eyes and raising her arm against the constant splashes in her face. She splashed back but she couldn't even see where he was through the water flying at her, and she yelled in frustration.

"I--"

She didn't hear the rest of his sentence as she dove under, swimming quickly towards his legs. She knew he would be able to see her through the crystal water, but she just had to pull harder. She could hear his splashes die out on the surface, and his hands closed over her shoulders as hers did around his ankles. She wrenched his feet out from under him before he could pull her up, tugging his legs to either side of her as he sunk down. She pushed up, surfacing, and only got a brief glance at his face as her hands slammed into his shoulders.

He sunk back under the water, and she started to pull away before his fingers wrapped around her wrists. He came up with a look of determination that had her yanking harder. He pushed her hands back against her shoulders and she shoved herself forward, wrapping her leg around his to kick at the back of his ankles. His foot came up at the same time he pressed forward, and one locked knee wasn't enough to stop herself from going under.

She came up spitting water and he laughed at her, his fingers sliding down her arms. She didn't wait a second before she attacked back, wrapping her leg around his and yanking at the back of his knees. They buckled as he held her arms away from him, but she was prepared for it and jumped on him instead. He fell back into the water, and she closed her eyes against the splash, pushing on his chest to sink him deeper and lift herself up.

He tried to pull her down with him but she got to her feet in time, trying to twist her arms from his hands as he came up. He stood as she stepped back, taking a step towards her, and pushed out a hard breath that sprayed out the water running over his mouth. He tugged her arms, bumping her into his chest before releasing them. She dropped them quickly, her skin sliding slick over his from his closeness. She went to step back until he squatted down, and she grabbed his shoulders to try pushing him under, having no idea what--

She yelped when his hands grabbed the back of her thighs, her fingers scrambling for something to cling onto as he launched her up and back, propelling her over the water before she plunged into it. A thousand bubbles erupted into the water around her and from her nose as she yelled out in her throat. Her back touched the sand floor as she flipped to her feet, about to kick off to the surface when she felt something sharp against her bare foot.

She emerged for a breath, glaring at Malfoy's smug look, and dove back under. She grabbed the clam out of the sand before surfacing, her arm bringing a sheet of water in its upward swing, and she threw it at him. It wasn't even hard -- it didn't bleed, or leave a mark in his skin where it had hit him in the chest - but he stared at the spot like it had sunk into his bones.

"Aw, did that--"

"Did you just throw a _clam_ at me?" He raised his eyes to hers, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Oh, that's what that was? By your reaction I thought it was a ninja star or something. That's a--" She started stroking her arms back as he started towards her. "It's like a round disc, with...with, uh-- It wasn't even that hard, you know. It--"

She laughed when he shot forward and grabbed her arms, but the ground had gotten too far to reach meters ago, and he pulled her easily towards him. "Is this funny to you?"

She nodded, still laughing, and reached up to push his hair back from where it was plastered across his forehead. "You look like a drowned ferret."

His sinister look had vanished when she looked down from his platinum strands, and she realized that pushing his hair back like that might have fallen into the Bad Ideas Concerning Malfoy section of her brain. It joined hugging and licking. She couldn't help it - she hadn't really thought about it, just noticed his hair glued to his skull and over his eyes, and there her hand had went. Idle hands - what was that they said about idle hands? She needed to tie hers to rocks or something. _Why are you hands misshapen, Hermione?_ they would ask, and she would say, _Very bad things happened_. Or just tell them about the idle hands saying, when she could remember it. When Malfoy wasn't staring at her like he was trying to trace the details of her irises in his head.

She could feel his feet kicking between hers under the water, her body bumping into his as they rose over a small wave, and his hands were barely holding her arms anymore. They were just sort of _resting_ there, the way her fingers were on his head. Her hand looked like she was waiting for someone to lean down and kiss it, frozen stupidly with the heat of his skull connected to her cool fingertips. She dropped it slowly, the side of her index skating over the rim of his earlobe, and her lips parted, though she couldn't even know what to say.

He dropped his hands from her, and they sunk down, his fingers getting caught in the hem of her floating shirt. She didn't move, yelling at herself to, but her body felt glued to the pull of his. The fingertips of his other hand skimmed across the bare skin at the side of her stomach, just as a wave gently pushed them apart. She leaned back and he leaned forward, following her over the bump of water, leaving his face to hover over hers.

He got a look on his face that most people would not have wanted to see in such a moment. Like he was the one swinging off the edge of a cliff, and the vine snapped, and no matter if he didn't want to plunge into the water, it was inevitable. _Shit, fuck, fine_ , that's what it told her, and his fingers skidded around her side to her back. She agreed with the look - agreed enough that she thought it was likely to be on her own face. The quickness of her breath and heartbeat knew where this was leading before her mind did, but once she knew, she wasn't pulling away either.

His palm pressed into her back, pulling her closer, and a drop of water fell from the tip of his nose and onto hers. If he didn't kiss her now, she might break apart - just turn into liquid and forever join the sea. Her body felt jumbled and disconnected, and she reached up to his arms, sliding her fingers up the length of them. She could feel the scars from the bird attack on his one arm, and on the other...

She didn't turn away, didn't look at it, but they both knew what she was touching. He paused a moment, not even a breath escaping, and so did she. The tip of his nose bumped hers, and then he pulled away from her like fire. He treaded back once, shutting his eyes for a moment as he pressed his knuckles to his brow, and Hermione felt lost in the sea. Lost like she might have been a thousand miles out, and waves must have been crashing over her, because she just couldn't breathe properly.

She didn't know why he pulled away. She didn't know if it was because of the past, of his regrets, or if it reminded him of some pure-blood notion that did not include kissing a Muggle-born. He had kissed her once - had _snogged_ her, even - so she didn't think the reason was the last one. Maybe it just made him remember who she was, and how all paths they had ever taken before this would have never even come close to this direction.

She thought it might be because of his past - that maybe her touch across that mark repulsed him because of who he had been, rather than who she was. Maybe it blistered up his mistakes. She had caught him staring at that scar like he wanted to burn himself just to shape it into something else, and she thought that maybe Draco Malfoy had a harder time forgiving himself than she did. Especially when he was the one dealing with the fallout of his bad decisions, of the twisted scope his parents had shown him to look through. The past few months had forced her to look at him past that, but maybe when he was still living with the consequences, it was all he could see.

Maybe he thought about how screwed up he was, and thought it was even more screwed up for him to be kissing her. And Hermione did not like these possibilities, because as screwed up as it might be, she... Well, if she still wanted to kiss him, her fingers on that scar or not, then he should very well kiss her. She had taken months to see that scar and realize it was who he had tried to be, who he failed to be, who he found he didn't want to be, and not who he was. And if she could do that - a Muggle-born, a fighter in the war, his old school enemy - than he should, too. She did not want him to look at her and see his mistakes. She refused to be that person, at least now, at least after she had understood, learned, and forgave.

Her heart was still thrumming, her stomach still twisting, and there was a collision of thoughts in her head. But the ones that stood out the most were two; she wanted to kiss him, and she wanted him to know that it was okay if he did. And there was really only one way that those two things can be accomplished at once, so she was moving forward with a bit of fear creeping up into her chest, cushioned only by her determination.

In a world of time, a person didn't always catch the right moment. Malfoy's closed eyes and knuckled brow turned from her in that second before she was there, and her lips caught his ear instead. The bottom of his lobe glided across her bottom lip, and they both froze awkwardly, her mouth to his ear. She pulled back just a little, just enough that she was no longer touching it, and her breath came out hard enough to move the drops of water across his jaw. Great. _Great_. She goes for it, and she gets an earlobe. This had to be one of those horrible youth moments that should have happened years ago, that she would have laughed with her friends about now. Instead, she--

His face turned back to her, his eyes intense as they met hers. He almost blended into the colors of the sea around them - the grey eyes, his pale skin and hair - but his lips were red. Red, and there, and wet, and... She was blushing from her ear kiss, caught between swimming back to the shore with some dignity or pulling up her brave face. She did the latter - she was never good at running away. But he was, and she thought for sure that he would turn now. Maybe give her some look that would be familiar and not the one he was giving her now.

She thought that if she were to make another move - put herself out there again after a failure with earlobes, bad timing, and the tension in her chest that refused to break - it had better be now. Before they went back to their silence, and didn't even have a good memory from it. So she grabbed his arm and pulled herself a little closer, and his eyes stopped flicking between hers, dropping to her mouth. She bit her lip under his gaze, which was probably not the most attractive thing she could do but a habit all the same, and he kept staring. He edged closer until his nose bumped hers again, and then looked up meet her eyes.

Her hands were trembling when she closed them over his forearms again, now drifting at his sides, and she didn't know why. The tension, the forced stillness on her bones when she just wanted to move, or how the way he was looking at her was making her breathing shudder. She tilted her head, closing her eyes, and kissed him. A peck at the side of his mouth, a brush of her bottom lip across his, and then pressed her lips fully to his.

She thought he might just stay there, a statue that somehow didn't sink. She thought he might pull away again, and if he did, she would not follow. She thought he might be hesitant in his return. But Draco Malfoy had a way of surprising her.

His hand came up to pass across her cheek, into her hair. His other hand was on her skin again, pushing around to her back, and his mouth was hungry. His mouth was devouring hers, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head as his lips pressed, sucked, and tugged on her own. He pulled her closer, tightly, pressing her against him until there was no space for the water between their torsos.

She was pulling sharp breaths, but it felt like she couldn't breathe, her arm sliding up to wrap around his neck while her other hand squeezed into his arm. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, his tongue tracing the curve, and his arm wrapped around her. She couldn't stop the little noise of her approval, and he pulled her up higher against him, his arm slipping up her back and pulling her shirt with him. She lifted her hands to his cheeks, spreading her fingers out across his skin, and flicked her tongue against his lip. He parted his lips but didn't give her a second, pushing into her mouth as he angled her head.

While her mind was spinning in a field of sensation, it was getting harder to deny the one she really, really did not want to feel. The muscles in her calf had balled up as tightly as a scared child, and the pain only got worse every time she moved it to keep herself afloat. She refused to pull away, though, tasting the salt across Malfoy's tongue, and the hum he made when she did so.

She made a sound of pain from her leg that caused him to relax the fist he had in her hair, and she wondered if this was some sort of plan from the universe. He gets injured the first time, she got a cramp on the second, and on the third they would just explode or something. She was tugging on his lip when her leg suddenly seized up violently, making her body jerk with the stabbing sensation. He pulled back at the spastic movement, just enough that his pants for air were fighting for space with hers, and his nose was still touching her with the tilt of their heads.

"I have a cramp." She felt that it was very important to tell him this since she could no longer move that leg. "A leg cramp. I think it's going to fall off."

He didn't speak or move, and then he breathed out in weird way. It wasn't an _I'm fighting for oxygen_ way, but an _I am very close to really laughing at you_ way. She glared at him, even though her eyes were still closed, but she was sure it was effective enough for him to feel through her eyelids. He pulled back and she opened her eyes at the motion, her face colder without his breath. His eyes looked darker, or maybe it was because her own had been shut, and she blushed as his gaze tracked across her face.

His arm pulled away from her, and his fingers tugged a little on her hair when he tried to dislodge them. She dropped her hands from his cheeks, hitting his shoulders with how close he was to her, before she pushed them into the water. He gave her the look they always exchanged when one of them was going too slow or took a break, and she glared at him. She thought it might be about as effective as the one she had given with her eyes shut, since she delivered it to the swollen nature of his mouth.

She was having one of those panicked brain moments where she didn't know what to say, where to look, or how to move. Her cramped leg won out over any attempt to ease the tension, so she started her one-legged swim to the shore. She made it three strokes before he followed.

**7:40pm**

He was staring at her again. She didn't know if he was doing it as payback for all the times she did, or if he just didn't notice. She wished he had one of those faces where she could read every emotion just by looking at them - or just read his mind. At least he wasn't ignoring her like the first time, but one word answers weren't really cutting it either. She didn't think she was much better - she was a little too lost to be trying to make conversation.

Once could be an accident. Not like they just happened to put their faces too close or something, but an accident of timing, and nerves, and hormones. A mistake. Twice was...well, twice was no longer an accident, was it? Twice meant something. She didn't know _what_ it meant, but it was something.

He was still a prat. He was still a lot of things that annoyed her, and made her want to smack him over the head. She still didn't know him - she didn't know what his favorite food was, or the memories he valued most, or the way he took his tea, or coffee, or if he drank either one. But she did know how he liked to sleep, and the little quirks that made up his everyday existence, and how he felt about politics, books, and weather patterns. She knew he hated strawberries, freckles, and the mark on his arm. She knew the subtleties within his expressions, that he peed like a river, and he ate oranges like it was an erotic experience. She had a pretty good grip on who Draco Malfoy was, even if she didn't know everything that had made him that way, or all the layers of his character.

She didn't _like_ him. The sight of him did not bring butterflies, or heart palpitations, or silly grins - even if kissing him did. She didn't know why that happened then. Why it felt like she was going to explode a little, and her bones sort of inflated, and her head became dizzy. There was a type of addiction to the way it made her feel, but she didn't _like_ him. She was aware of him at close proximity, but she wasn't always flustered by it. She didn't lie down to sleep and think over every moment to try and find more meaning than there was. This was not a _crush_.

It was a... A Recognition of Attraction. She appreciated his intelligence and his appearance. She liked when he laughed. Also, when he kissed her, or ate oranges, or woke up with his one eye all scrun-- A Recognition of Attraction, yes.

She didn't know what this made them, if it made them anything at all. It happened twice now and she didn't regret it, and that had to mean something. And maybe...maybe she might have wanted to do it again, and that definitely meant something, too.

**September 12; 2:39pm**

She took her first sip of water in four hours, and stared angrily at the sea she couldn't drink. Her foot slid over the sand as she capped the water bottle, accidentally kicking sand into the back of Malfoy's legs. He turned his head halfway towards her so he was looking to the side, in that move people do in theaters when the person behind them won't shut up.

"Still trying to grasp the art of walking, Granger?"

Kissing him, or having something going on with him, did not turn him into a nice guy. He did not suddenly agree with her on everything, his insults did not slow, and he still liked to glare and frown at her for no reason. He still pretended to ignore her when he didn't want to deal with her, he would laugh if she tripped, and there were no random smiles or compliments. There was no radical change - there was no change at all.

"I don't know, are you still trying to grasp the art of..." She swore something clever was going to hit her halfway through that sentence.

He started speaking before she could pull something out. "Not only do you copy three quarters of my comment, but then fail to deliver anything original. D--"

"Actually, I got too caught up in looking at the bug in your hair."  
His hand smacked into the back of his head for her, and she smirked wickedly.

**September 13; 11:41am**

They were officially done with the island of Lipari, back in the main city they had first entered the island from. Hermione was incredibly happy about it until she remembered there were six more to go. At least the biggest one was out of the way, and there was always the chance they would find Floralis on the next one. Even if she was worried about what was going to happen to them when they did, at least they could know and do something about it.

She dug around in her bag for the hotel key, weighing the pros and cons of trying to enter the room, but she couldn't find it. In all the running, tossing, climbing, and sudden floods, she must have lost it somewhere. There went her plan for getting more supplies.

Malfoy said something, but she only caught the word food over the happy yelling across from them. She felt a little strange being back around so many people again - it was making her jumpy, and everything seemed very loud. She caught herself searching their faces for sharp teeth, and told herself she would stop when she was back in England.

"What?"

"Food, Granger. Usually consumed for sustenance--"

"What about it?"

He looked annoyed, from her not hearing him or the people around them. "Do you want some?"

"I have some fruit."

He pointed to a woman behind a cart along the beach. "I mean food."

She gave him a confused look, glancing back at the woman. "You have money? Where did you get money? You had money this whole time?"

"Money three times in one breath. You've adjusted well back into society." She gave him her warning look. "It was in the bag."

She looked down at the bag on his hip. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

He shrugged a shoulder, and she glared at his gait as he walked down to the cart. She followed, mouth watering.

**12:23pm**

Somehow it felt less strange to be living in the forest with him than shopping with him. Sleeping and trampling through forests was about as out of place in her typical life as Draco Malfoy was, so it all came together in a ball of weirdness that worked. Shopping was a normal experience, in a normal setting, so having him there with her felt foreign, despite spending every day for the better part of four months together.

"How much money do we have, exactly?" It might have been in his pocket, but she still considered it _theirs_ since they had both acquired the bag. Technically, it was the money of a murderer, but she tried not to remember that - the dream memories of the dead man wouldn't go away as it was.

"Enough." He threw more soap into the basket, and looked down the aisle. "What kind do you use?"

For a second, she thought he was talking about the boxes of condoms to her left. She blinked wide-eyed at them, but before her disbelief or any anger could swell, he pulled a box of toothpaste off the shelf to read the label. "That's fine."

He looked over at the high-pitch rush of her voice, and she darted her eyes away. She carefully avoided looking at the condoms in case he followed her eyes, and she grabbed a couple bottles of shampoo. "What is that?"

"Shamp--"

"The scent."

"Oh." She glanced over at him, wondering if he really cared what kind of scent things had. "Passion--"

"No."

She held up the bottle, cocking her head. "No to the scent, or no, you didn't mean--"

"I'm not shampooing with anything that starts with _passion_." He pulled it out of her hand and set it back on the shelf, squinting at the labels.

She thought he was being a little too picky for someone who had been traveling through forests for months. It hardly mattered what his hair smelt like - they were rarely in a social setting, so she would be the only one smelling it on him. The selection wasn't vast, so he wasn't likely to find something he really agreed with. She watched his nose wrinkle more the longer he looked, and she sighed, bending down to start smelling them.

Strawberries, flowers, peaches, something gross, or-- She pulled the bottle away from her nose and looked over at him in contemplation. He was rolling two different bottles in his palms, moving them up and down as if to physically weigh his options. "Oranges?"

His eyes flicked away from the shelf, to her, and then to the bottle in her hand. He dragged his eyes up to hers and nudged the basket towards her, dropping the other two in as well. Weren't men not supposed to care about these sort of things? She could understand not wanting to smell like a girl, but she didn't think the trees would mind.

"Should we get shirts? They're a bit touristy, but it's better than walking around with holes in our clothes while we're in public. We don't--"

"Or claw marks in the back of your shirt." He sneered at a curious look they were getting from a man behind her.

"Right. So--" She was trying to ask him how much they had without having to _really_ ask, but he didn't get it or was avoiding the answer.

"I'm going to pay for this, and then go fill the bottles." He held out a note of money and she took it, watching him pick the basket up. "Get whatever."

**1:48pm**

They both moved forward and to the right when a group of children came barreling down the ferry, his hand sliding against hers along the metal pole. She thought it was silly to even notice it. It was completely insignificant, but there it was, still there, touching her hand.

"Where do you want to get off? Salina is the next island."

"Salina," he confirmed - that he wanted to get off there, or that it was next, she didn't know.

She had planned on getting off at Salina anyway, but she had wanted to ask him so he felt he had a choice in the matter. She couldn't get angry at him for trying to lead them somewhere without telling her where, or asking her opinion, when she didn't ask his either. Salina was the next logical choice - after that, the Islands split to either side, but they could decide on that if they were forced to keep going. As beautiful as the Islands were, she wanted to find the plant yesterday and get home last month.

"That looks..." She stared at the long line of green they were approaching, the rising mountains that sunk into the sky. She tried to picture them there within the deep green, but the two of them were microscopic to the enormity of wild in front of her.

"Shit."

**2:12pm**

Hermione looked up at the trees above the village, pushing her bag around to her back. She was certain she had built up some muscles in the past few months, but there was enough new stuff in there that she was going to have to build up some more. Malfoy was carrying the bulk of their purchases, but she still had a few of her own things and had made him give her half the water bottles.

She expected to see him aiming a look of arrogance at everyone who passed by too closely, but he was staring, perplexed, at the bus idling a few meters from them. "Have you ever got on a bus before?"

"Yes," she answered slowly, giving him a curious look before he started walking towards it. "Don't you think we should start in at the tree line, like usual? Or round the coast first?"

He was already disappearing up the bus steps, studying the door and handrail. She followed behind him, about to ask what he thought he was doing, when he gave the driver an imperious look and started speaking Italian. The only word she understood from her comparisons of the same Italian and English brochures was for travel. Malfoy held the money out to the driver after he had answered, and the man started counting out the change.

"Malfoy," she hissed. "What are we doing? You--"

"We have to meet someone." He took the change with a nod, turning to face the bus.

She felt the tips of her ears drag up. " _Who_?"

"A friend." He stood there, staring down the aisle of the bus and the people staring back at him. He looked like he was rethinking this _friend meeting_ , but then he took a step forward, only to stop again.

"Move." Hermione pushed a hand into his back, giving an apologetic look to the people waiting behind them.

He gave her a warning glance before slowly walking down the aisle. He didn't bother meeting the eyes of the people looking at them, and was being far too picky about the state of the seats. Really, the man had been sleeping on the ground for months, and-- She grabbed his shirt as he passed a perfectly good choice, releasing it when he stopped, and slid in herself. He stared down at the empty space next to her before finally sitting down, and Hermione gave another apologetic smile to the people checking their watches. She felt like she had a misbehaving child with her.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" "A friend, I--"

"That is hardly an answer."

"It's an answer."

She glared harder at him, but he was looking at the seat in front of them. _Marry me_? was written in smooth lines above a shaky, carved _fuck me_. Apparently this made him more comfortable, and he leaned back with a smirk.

"Do you think that was her answer, or--"

"How do you even know anyone here? If you-- Is it that guy? That guy you were talking to on Vulcano?" He was still smirking at the back of the seat, only noticing the world to sneer at the woman across the aisle who said something to him. "Malfoy--"

" _What_? Fuck, Granger, you--"

"You knew that man before we got here? He--" "No."

She bent her head forward and gave a quick, little shake. The _that was not clear or sufficient_ , and _you are getting me angry_ shake. He ignored her, pulling an orange out of his bag. _Bastard_.

**2:41pm**

Hermione paused at the bottom of the bus steps as the driver motioned up the mule path the bus was too big to fit on. Malfoy gave him a nod, and she stepped out when he turned to get off. He only took one look at her face before his eyes darted away on a groan. Yes, because if he didn't make eye contact, she was going to drop the subject.

"I'll admit that there is a certain level of...trust between us, but I do not follow blindly. I want to know why we're visiting this _friend_ , why we had to do it now instead of working our way here, who this-- _Draco_."

He looked at her from the calla lily he was inspecting, one of the hundreds that lined the path. He raised an eyebrow, his fingers ghosting across the petals. " _Hermione_."

That sounded strange - the way he said it or the fact that he said it, but it was enough to throw her off her focus for a second. "Who is this friend? Are they...going to be receptive to the both of us coming here?"

He studied her for several seconds, long enough for her impatience to threaten the breaking point. His breaking point, like a bone, or-- "He's a Muggle, from what I know. If that's what you're truly asking."

It was. She didn't think he would be trying to lead her to a Death Eater's house, but she had to be sure. In case he could possibly forget her blood status or something. She didn't even know if Malfoy would have been allowed inside a Death Eater's home now, but she didn't want to visit any of his old family friends either. She had also asked to be sure this wasn't a surprise visit - those almost never went well.

"You have a Muggle friend?"

He gave her a tired look before starting up the mule path. "He's an all right bloke."

"A Muggle?"

"Why is it so hard to believe that a Muggle can be an all right bloke? Just--"

"Don't mock me. You hate Muggles--"

"I never said that."

"Not ever? I--"

"I don't hate Muggles," he snapped, and she stopped talking at the vein in his temple, knowing she wouldn't get anywhere when he was angry. For now.


	25. Part Twenty-Five

**8:03pm**

She stared at the man she recognized from Vulcano, though she couldn't understand a word he was saying. He was chatting up a storm, and though Malfoy's responses were short, it didn't seem to put him off. Malfoy only looked slightly uncomfortable, which was a lot less than Hermione was. The last time she had seen this man he had been screaming at her in the middle of the village, and now she was sitting at his kitchen table with her hands in her lap.

The only thing she had managed to get out of Malfoy before they found the house was who the friend was. She had envisioned this same awkward moment when she stood at the front door, but it was worse. The man didn't even acknowledge her presence beyond a single nod and a strange look at Malfoy. She had been sitting at the table for an hour, staring at the sparse details of the kitchen while feeling like an idiot for being in his house and not knowing his language.

There was a brief silence at the table that made her look up from her hands, and saw the man grinning with his head cocked towards her. Malfoy's face had shut down, his shoulders stiffer than she was, and she had the distinct feeling that it was about her. She _really_ wanted to know what had been said, but she hadn't even been paying enough attention to know who spoke last. She looked at Malfoy as the man started talking normally again, but she had a feeling she couldn't get it out of him without her wand and a Floralis offering.

**9:32pm**

She followed Malfoy up a creaking staircase that she eyed distrustfully. She couldn't see it very well in the dark, which only made the chance of falling through a higher possibility for her. They turned down a hallway, lit dimly from the moonlight through the windows, and Malfoy opened the first door they came to.

"So, we're staying here?"

"For now."

"Because...?" she asked, and he opened another door, squinting into the dark.

She sighed, brushing against him before leaning into him to reach around the doorway, searching for the switch. She slid her hand up and down the wall, hoping she didn't run into anything dirty, but she couldn't find it. He looked down at her smugly, his eyebrows raising, and she leaned back - the candles in the kitchen must not have been for the ambiance.

"Listen, Malfoy..." He closed his eyes at the words, rolling his head along his shoulders as his neck cracked. "I don't think you underst--"

"I'm too tired for a Granger speech."

"Then tell me--"

"I told him I would help pick his grapes in September, if I was still here, as repayment. I'm still here. I'm picking grapes. It shouldn't--"

"Repayment for what?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Not important."

"It must be important if you're willing to go pick a vineyard for--"

"It's not important to you. I'm not a fucking book, Granger. You can't open me up and learn everything you want from me. People don't work like that, and it's none of your bloody business what I'm repaying."

"It's my business when I'm here--"

"No, I already told you what we're doing here. That's all you get to know. So why don't you go find a bedroom, stay up all night thinking of a hundred different possibilities for _why_ , and then accuse me of the worst of them in the morning? I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

She stared at him as he entered the room next to them, the click just as final as a bang.

**11:28pm**

She stared at the ceiling, drawing circles on the blanket over her. It was too silent in the room - not a touch of wind, a flutter of a bird, or a creak of a tree. Malfoy was sleeping two doors down, and she wondered if he slept the same in a bed as he did on the ground. The room felt oddly empty.

It was the first time she had slept alone in three months.

**September 14; 8:09am**

Hermione stepped outside, picking up one of the buckets beside the door. Malfoy had his back facing her in the row directly in front of her, the man from Vulcano and another man in the rows next to him. She really didn't like the man they were helping, but there was nothing else to do, and maybe if she helped, they could leave sooner.

She looked up at the laughter, finding the two men staring back at her, the new stranger scrutinizing her as he said something. She shifted under his gaze, narrowing her eyes at him. Malfoy said something that caused the other two to stop laughing, and the man turned his eyes from her, looking at the owner of the house. She gave them an affronted look, clearing her throat as she started towards the vineyards. The sound caused Malfoy to straighten up, looking at the men before turning to face her. She only met his eyes for a second, his mouth opening, but she passed him before he could say anything.

**10:04pm**

Malfoy and the man were getting drunk in the kitchen, which was not something she would allow herself to sit through. She was already uncomfortable enough, so she refused to be around rowdy drunks while she sat there, sober and clueless to the language. She tried searching the house for books, and found herself in Malfoy's temporary bedroom instead.

She put the shirt she had got him in Lipari on the unmade bed, along with a pair of swimming shorts. She wasn't sure if he would wear either, but she had gotten the same for herself - a bikini could serve as underwear when one was desperate enough. She spotted his bag beside the bed, bending down to search for what she needed. She pulled out his deformed penguin, twisting it over in her hand, and dropped it headfirst into a glass of water. She put it on the bedside table before continuing her search for books.

**September 15; 2:18am**

She pushed aside a container of milk, searching the fridge for something to eat. She felt weird about digging around in someone's kitchen in the middle of the night, but Malfoy had said the house was open to them. She had been hungry for hours, but she had to wait until the kitchen cleared out before she would bother getting food. She would have eaten something out of her bag, but she figured that was best saved for when she didn't have a kitchen of food downstairs.

"You missed dinner."

She jumped at Malfoy's voice behind her, glancing over her shoulder to see him. "I wasn't hungry."

"You're always hungry." That was untrue.

"Not important." And she might have said it a little too harshly.

She moved a jar aside, frowning at the strange contents of the container it revealed. It looked like three little balls in urine. She wondered if the guy was weird like that. Some people were screwed up and did things like put jars of urine in their fridge. Or human body parts. She wouldn't put it past his twitchy eyes.

"You didn't eat because you were mad at me. That--"

"No. I just...he creeps me out."

"What?"

"He creeps me out. The guy. He creeps. Me. Out."

"Just because he's a Muggle--" She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"That obviously doesn't matter. I don't know how those nice Muggles freaked you out, and he doesn't. I guess you're used to creepy people, though. Probably why you feel more comfortable," she muttered.

She pushed a jar of juice aside, wrinkling her nose at whatever food mash was behind it. Malfoy was silent so she glanced back to look at him, jumping when she saw his legs right behind her. "We can leave soon. Tomorrow night."

She turned towards him, biting her lip and shrugging. "When we can." As soon as possible. "No offense to your friend, but I'm almost positive he doesn't like me either."

"I don't think he's used to having a woman around." He pulled himself up on the kitchen table behind him, a faint smile appearing. "You didn't make a great first impression either."

Hermione huffed, but she was a little distracted by him staying. They didn't have a choice but to stay together when they were walking through the wild, but here they didn't have to see one another at all until they left. But there he was, with her, taking a seat. She wondered if it felt strange to him - if he had that same mental damage that caused her to look behind her when she didn't hear the crunch of his footsteps.

"I'm surprised you're not sleeping off the drinking."

"I'm not drunk."

She looked through the cabinets, sliding the leftover chicken onto the counter. "You must have a high tolerance, then. You two were down here for hours."

"Time doesn't amount to quantity. I wasn't down here like we just found a river after a week."

She smiled, plopping the chicken in a pan and turning the stove on. "I don't think you would be able to even talk right now."

He hummed, and she slid up on the table next to him.

**12:31pm**

She picked grapes like she was starving for them, dropping them into a bucket and quickly moving down the line. The vineyard wasn't very big - amazingly small compared to some - but there was still enough that it wouldn't be done by tonight. She hoped he wasn't planning to stay until the job was complete or it was going to take them a week. Especially at the pace the others were moving.

The man said something in the row next to her, looking at her over the vines. She didn't know how to take it, though he wasn't giving her that condescending look he usually did - if he bothered to look at her at all.

"He said--"

She jumped at Malfoy's voice behind her. "God! Don't sneak up on me! You did that--"

"I've been behind you for the past half hour, Granger." He raised an eyebrow, and she tried to quickly calculate how long ago it was that she was wiggling around to the song she hummed.

"Well...be less--" She searched for the words, giving up. "What did he say?"

"That he should hire you full time. You work fast."

"Oh..." She looked over at the man to smile at him, and then exchanged a knowing look with Malfoy.

**9:13pm**

She knocked on Malfoy's door softly, in case he was sleeping, but she saw the flicker of candlelight at the bottom. He might have slept with the candle lit, though. She thought that was a little dangerous when there wasn't any magic preventing it from tipping over. Without magic, she would always blow it out, secretly afraid that she would wake up to a room of fire, and not know until her skin was burning off.

She heard the bed creak and bit her lip, hoping she hadn't woken him up. It wasn't even _important_. She had found her penguin covered in smushed grapes, and wanted to ask him what sort of revenge that was. Perhaps make fun of him for his lack of creativity. Why was she doing this again? It felt stupid now, _sounded_ stupid in her head. For a second, she wanted to make a break for it down the hall, into her room, and just pretend not to know who knocked on his door. If he came to ask, she could open it like she was sleepy, rubbing her eyes and stretching. Just so she could avoid standing there, stupidly, with no important reason for waking him.

She lifted her chin up instead, wincing at herself when the doorknob turned, and was aiming an apologetic look before she could even see his face. He was only wearing his shorts, but she kept her eyes glued to his. His hair was messy, but he didn't appear to have been sleeping. She probably caught him right before.

She held up the penguin, dropping into the situation like a bomb that didn't want to destruct. "What is this? Did you start a food fight, or get my penguin drunk?"

One beat of her heart, three, five, and his eyes rose from the penguin to hers. "Wasn't me. It's just the ongoing war, Granger."

That was good. No questions, weird looks, or anything to make her feel stupid for coming to his door this late. He reached over, out of sight, and she could hear a sound like glass swiping off something. He held up an unmarked wine bottle.

"Malvasia. I remembered from the...anniversary ball that you happen to be a bit of a lush--"

"I told you that all those glasses weren't mine--"

"So when he asked me to give this to you, I was hesitant. Wouldn't want to be an enabler to your drinking."

"You could enable anyone to drink. It would be like the final step before people leave rehab--"

"And I'm also hoping it doesn't turn you into more of a bitch."

She glared at him. "How sweet."

He tilted it so the bottom was pointed at her, and she reached up to accept it. She curled her other hand around her penguin, not knowing what to say. He remained standing in the doorway, looking at her in all her fumbling glory as she twisted the bottle in her palm. She reached up a finger, brushing it over the edge of a blank, red sticker, and looked up at him.

"Thirsty?"

**September 16; 12:51am**

She had had a little too much to drink. There had been some awkward silence filled with a lot of sipping in the beginning, and once conversation started, the flavor of the drink kept her going more. She had severely underestimated the power of the wine until she had stood up to go to the loo, and everything spun a bit. She had known that everything was fuzzy and light when she was talking to him, but somehow standing had just spurted the wine out to all of her blood, and it hit her like a truck.

She had taken it a lot slower after that, but the golden liquid kept appearing in  
her glass, and she realized they were working on the end of a second bottle. Even  
the sharp edges of the bedside table looked soft, and she was dizzy, light, and _giggly_. She looked ridiculous in front of Malfoy, who kept laughing at her, but she couldn't real

"I will beat you."

"There's no way you're going to outrun me, Granger."

"Watch me." She reached up to push a hand into the bed above her, and the world tilted when she pushed herself up.

She felt better once she was on her feet, but she didn't know if the world was rocking or if it was just the flickering flame of the candles. Malfoy downed the rest of his glass and stood from the floor as well, and his shoulders definitely rocked a little as he tried to find balance.

She wasn't sure if he actually _looked_ drunk through the scope of her own drunkenness, but there had been no shoulder rocking last night when he had drank with the man. She wondered if it was the wine, or he had just felt uncomfortable getting drunk with a stranger. She didn't think Malfoy was the type to let his guard down like that with someone he didn't know, which made her realize that he had with her, and this thought made a rather stupid grin appear on her face.

He looked at her like she went mad months ago and he was learning to accept it. "We'll go the length of the vineyards."

"And back. Unless you're not up for it." She shrugged, her smile turning cocky as they walked to the stairs.

"I just wanted to try making it fair for you. I know your legs cramp under strenuous activity."

"Says the one who suddenly started limping last week, when we--"

"Sh," he laughed, slowly following her down the stairs. "I don't think you realize the pitch your voice can reach. My brain bleeds."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes. Like--"

"Good."

"Just know that when the rest of the world is praising you for your goodness, I'll be remembering how cruel you are. And plotting revenge."

She laughed, stifling it behind her hand as they headed for the back door. "Bring it on, Malfoy."

She twisted the handle, pulling it back when Malfoy grabbed the side and opened it the rest of the way for them. She took a deep breath of the fresh air as she stepped out, opening her eyes really wide and blinking slowly. This was supposed to magically sober her up a little, but it didn't appear to be working.

"To the end of the vineyards and back."

"Right."

She stepped even with him, lining her toes up with his. "I should be able to start halfway up the row, just to make up for--"

"Are you scared you're going to lose? Need--"

"I never lose. Unless it's Monopoly. _God_ , I hate that game."

"Let it out."

She glared at him, and then saw that his toes had moved up a few millimeters and glared harder, lining them up again. "And no cheating, Malfoy."

"Of course not."

"Good. On go." She hated when people said that, like it wasn't widely known, but she thought that maybe Malfoy didn't. "One, two, three, _go_."

She tried to trip him immediately, at the same time he turned to push her, and both of them fell. She got to her feet first, taking off up one of the rows. She could hear him pounding behind her, and she bent to pick up the stick she was coming up on, which did not prove a good idea for her state of balance. She fell, grabbing Malfoy's leg when he tried to pass her, and cackled when he fell as well. She grabbed the stick as she staggered to her feet, hopping out of Malfoy's attempt to grab her, and sprinted off.

She threw the stick back in his direction when she heard his feet again, and she felt the grapes he was launching at her hit off the back of her head. Things were stabbing into her bare feet, a bad idea in hindsight, but she hardly felt them. The air rushed cool against her in the dark, her bones felt fuzzy, and the moonlight glowed more than she was used to. She could hear Malfoy right behind her now, and she yelled out when she felt his fingers skim the back of her shirt.

He pushed her into the vines as he passed, but she bounced off of them, barely derailed. He was still faster, though, gaining ground in front of her as he sailed down the row. She narrowed her eyes and yelled out in what she hoped sounded like fear, watching him slow. He turned his head back to look at her, and she turned to look behind her, yelling again.

"What?"

She heard him stop, and she gave her best scared look while she ran towards him. She had been planning on running right on past, but he launched forward when she did, grabbing her around the waist. They spun from her momentum, and she closed her eyes, digging her fingers into his forearms.

"You really thought I would fall for that? Slytherin!" Like she had to be reminded of his House.

"You sound like it's something to be pro--" she started to yell back, laughing before she knew that it wasn't just the world tipping but _them_. Her sound of fright was real this time as he tripped over his feet in the middle of the spin, bringing them both to the ground.

His breath blew her hair up, and she _just_ stopped her head from smashing into his face. He released the iron grip he had around her as he sucked a breath in, and she breathed in too, rolling off of him. The spin and fall had only increased her dizziness, and she ended up staring at the blades of grass in front of her like she had never seen anything like it, trying to stop her revolving sight.

She huffed for air, winded from the run, and heard Malfoy doing the same. She turned her face towards him, finding his turned towards her just a few millimeters away. Her exhale sent his fringe blowing up across his forehead, and his eyes were hooded with the wine. He might have been hit by a wave of tiredness like her too, the run seeming to drain what the wine and hour hadn't.

"I'm not drunk kissing you." She blinked at her statement as if she hadn't been the one to make it. Maybe she hadn't been - maybe there was some other voice in her head that decided that was a good idea, and Malfoy had been right about her going crazy. Why did she just say that? She could have just not done it, that little thing with the action instead of the word explosion.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Okay."

That wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. "Okay."

"I'm glad you're not going to take advantage of my innocence after you got me pissed." She blinked at him once, three times, and then laughed. "That's amusing?"

She nodded. "Draco's innocence. Is that an oxymoron? I think so!" He hummed, staring at her, and her laughter faded at the look on his face. "You don't look like you were listening."

"I was listening."

"You look like you're thinking of..."

"Of what?"

"Oranges."

He laughed at her, and she grinned sleepily.

**7:02am**

Hermione groaned as she tried to open her eyes, the sun sinking into her eyeballs and her head pounding. She heard Malfoy sucking in a breath as he woke up, and the proximity of it right above her head made her eyes snap open, bright light or not. She squinted at his arm, feeling his shoulder move just a little against her forehead. She stretched out her arm and legs, finding that her head was the only thing touching him as she pulled it back from his shoulder. She could hear him swallow, they were so close, and she reached up to rub her face, shifting away in awkwardness.

"I think we have a problem." She made a sleep-heavy sound, looking around them in a burst of panic for the problem. "I meant the sleeping on the ground bit, Granger. Now who's paranoid."

She yawned, rubbing her eyes as she thought of a response, before last night sunk into her head. She blushed as she peeked at him with one eye, because maybe he couldn't see that she was looking if she only used one and didn't open it all the way. He was standing up and she did too, straightening her clothes as she shook her head. No more getting drunk with Malfoy and saying stupid things. She was also pretty sure she commented on how much she liked his hair, and she might have told him her theory on him being a robot. There were a few first name callings, a little too much staring, and she did not _do_ giggling.

Stupid wine. Stupid man. Stupid her.

She pushed the heel of her palm into her eye and groaned lowly, doing what billions have before her by trying to rationalize and forget it ever happened. If he ever brought any of it up, she would just act confused and look at him like he was crazy. Then maybe he would think he was so drunk that he imagined it all, or it was a dream at the end of the night.

She looked up at the house as they both started walking back, shaking her head at how they had slept on the ground when beds had been waiting right there. They had just fallen in the middle of their race and stayed there. Technically, they were still racing - they just had to take a little nap in between, like old people Olympics. So, really, whoever got to the house--

Malfoy gave her a side glance. A side glance and a quick step, and she jolted forward in response, just a second before him, both of them sprinting to the back door.

**7:22pm**

She half turned from the fridge with a shy smile in case it was the owner, but it was Malfoy instead. The shy smile remained, and she forcefully pushed it down so she was frowning instead. _Normal. Normal mouth relaxation, Hermione_ _._

"I know I said we would be out of here by tonight, but he asked me to stay one more day, so..."

Hermione nodded. "One more day, then. You know, it's not just because I'm uncomfortable. There might be other people out there looking--"

"I know. This is important." She was ready to ask him why it was, but changed her mind. He must have had reasons, and they must have been good ones - whatever they were.

"Tomorrow night, then. Depending on what time you get done, and if we'll be able to walk very far." He was looking at her in that way again, like he was last night.  
She grew nervous, the fridge door half shutting on her leg, and her fingers twisting around one another. "If we can't walk that far because we're tired, then we should just stay another night. We'll get up early, though, and we'll really have to push ourselves to make up for the time. I don't know where you want to start. I figure we're halfway to that mountain, the small one, so..."

She trailed off on her nervous rambling, and he just kept _staring_ at her. His shoulder was propped against the door frame, and he was wearing the shirt she had got him. Aeolian Islands was written on a curve in bold font against the black fabric, a white line of a volcano under it, and beneath that was _an explosion of paradise_ _in cursive_. She was wearing the same one, and she thought she should have gotten a different color so it didn't look like they were trying to match. Black just hid stains better. Considering the amount of blood stains on their other shirts, she should have gotten them red. Or orange, but that would have been a bit of a beacon for all dangerous creatures and people.

"Did you eat?" she asked him.

"I wasn't hungry." Still wasn't stopping.

"That's a welcomed change." His eyebrows drew together. "I'm not saying you eat a lot or anything, just that...you know. We usually can't go off and say that we're not hungry. We just can't eat." He nodded, and she thought he knew he was making her nervous. "Are you hungry now?"

"I don't know. Fish tastes the same over a fire, but I still remember your fruit mixes." He said it like he was putting it delicately, but knowing his range of insults, he was. She rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm not going to cook anything elaborate. And if I did, you would be blown away. You get the frying pan out." He just stood there, and it was his turn to fidget. He took a step towards the cabinets, paused in a flash of confusion, and then walked over to them. "It looks like-- It's right there. Have you ever made cheeseburgers before?"

"All the time," he drawled, but she was talking again, having known the answer.

"Turn on the stove, that--" He was staring at her in disbelief now. "It's not that hard."

"I don't cook."

"You can learn how. It's not that different from--"

"There's no point. After I leave these Islands, I'm not going to need to know this. I know how to hold something over a fire, and that's--"

"Have your house-elves do--"

"I'm not getting into that again," he bit, his tone firm.

She sniffed. "Why does it matter if you're not going to cook again?"

"Not all of us want to bother ourselves with bullshit just because it's _there_ to know, sw--"

"Maybe you will. Maybe you'll find yourself in a house without elves, or a friend's house, or helping someone cook one time."

He looked at her blankly and she turned away from him, shaking her head with a muttered, "Never mind." She put the meat on the counter and pulled the fridge door open, pushing things around to look for any cheese. She found it on the bottom shelf, hidden behind that urine jar again. She grabbed it, shutting the fridge door, when Malfoy grabbed the cheese out of her hand.

"What do you want me to do?"

She smiled, and he looked like he immediately regretted it.

**8:37pm**

Malfoy paused next to his door, forcing her to stop behind him since he was taking up the narrow hallway. She stared at the spot between his shoulder blades for four seconds before she turned, trying to slide past him. He turned as well, facing her, and she thought it was to give her room until his hands grabbed her hips. She looked up in surprise, but there were too many things blending together in his expression for her to know what it meant.

She gave him a questioning look, jumping when she heard a door slam from...outside? She was about to turn to glance out the windows, but Malfoy's fingers squeezed her hips, and her attention focused completely back on him. His head was bent towards her, fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and her heart started beating a little harder. She knew part of that look.

They were standing too close together, his hands were still there, and her own came up to settle on his arms. "I--"

She didn't know what she was going to say, just anything to break the silence, but apparently he didn't want to hear it anyway. His head bent as hers raised, the speed and angle clinking their teeth together. She only had time to register the sound before he kissed her properly, his lips tugging hers. She stood in surprise, her mouth opening on a gasp of hot air, and he wasted no time in taking advantage. The moment his tongue skimmed past the line of her teeth, she was fire.

She returned his kiss just as frantically, pushing him out of her mouth to gain entry to his own. She made a breathy sound at the twist of her stomach and the heat of his mouth, and his fingers stopped clenching on her hips, tugging her against him instead. She wrapped her arms around his neck, balling the top of his shirt into her fist, and pressed up on her toes. It rocked his balance, and he leaned forward, stepping her back two paces until her back hit the wall. She heard his palms smack down against the wall to either side of her head, and he bit her lip a little too hard.

Her heart was doing things that could not be healthy inside her chest, her stomach tightened into a ball that kept _rolling_. She moaned when he sucked on the tip of her tongue, and he rocked into her on a groan. His hand dropped from the wall, sliding around her waist and pulling her, as if she could possibly get closer. She could feel the way he moved and his pulls for air, then his hand, sliding down to her bum.

She pushed against him at the contact, not sure if she was trying to get away from it or press tighter to him, and he stumbled back a step. His other arm wrapped around her back, and he cupped her bum, pulling her until she was standing on her toes again. She made a sound at the movement, at the feeling it shot through her, that only had him squeezing tighter. She was encouraged by his touch, and she pulled a hand from his neck, sliding it over his shoulder and down. He sucked in a sharp breath, pushing it hot into her mouth, and she felt the dips of the chest she always pretended not to look at.

Her struggle for oxygen grew too intense to ignore, and she pulled her head back a fraction. She opened her eyes to look at him, but only saw the side of his face as he bent towards her neck. His mouth was wet and hot as it clamped to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her head fell back on a moan as she looked dazedly at the ceiling, and the sound made her senses start coming back to her.

Malfoy was definitely fondling her right now. He was squeezing, and sliding, and pushing, and _fondling_ her bum. Malfoy. Kissing was one thing - fondling led to other things. Other things like the open door a step behind him, and the heat between her thighs, and-- She curled her fingers into his shirt when he nipped her neck, her eyes shutting.

"Oh," she breathed, trying to remember...fondling. Yes, fondling was...was very nice.

She shook her head. _No_ , no, that had not been her thought process. It was the fondling, the door, the-- He sucked the spot right under her jaw, and she rocked forward hard enough to send them back a step. They were _in_ the doorway now, and--

Malfoy reached up to fist her hair, pulling her head back so her mouth was at a place accessible to his own. _I have to go to bed now. Say it._ Say it, _Hermione_. She pushed up and kissed him, because really, in the doorway was not in the room, so she still had a time. She still had so much time for the flick of his tongue against hers, the drag of his mouth, the press of his hands.

He pulled away from her and she half followed before she could stop herself. It wasn't until his head lifted above hers that she heard the creaking of the steps through their pants for air. Malfoy made a sound harsh enough that it must have been a curse, but she couldn't make out what it was. She unlocked her fingers from his person, licking her burning lips, and his hands fell away from her. She took a step back, pulled her shirt down, half-turned towards the stairs, him, and then walked to her own bedroom.

She didn't know _why_ she thought escape was the best option, but her body was on overload and she couldn't think enough to face another person. She glanced back at Malfoy, but he was looking at the stairs, and she shut her door behind her. She leaned her forehead against the wood, sucking in air, and reached up to push the lock in on the handle.

She bit the swell of her bottom lip, shifting with her ache, and looked behind her at the bed. The door, the bed, the door. But doing that would make it real - it would be admitting that this was a lot more intense than she had given it credit for, and it would be...it would be thinking of _him_ in _that_ way. Which was maybe a bit more than a Recognition of Attraction. It was more like a Very Thorough Exploration of Unintended-- She unbuttoned her jeans, backing away from the door and to the bed. No one had to know. _She_ didn't even have to know. This never happened.

**September 17; 1:31pm**

Malfoy looked at her when he entered the kitchen, and she dropped her eyes down to her sandwich. She was blushing for a few different reasons, but the main one was because of...that thing that never happened. She had been laying in a sweaty mess of half-formed satisfaction when she remembered certain mental images she had conjured up. She hadn't really done it on purpose - she had been very concentrated on memory more than imagination - but then _there they were_. She felt like she had looked in on him naked without him knowing about it, and she felt a little guilty, which might have been absurd.

She was also regretful - very, very regretful. It had felt like a good idea at the time, or even the only good idea at the time, but she realized her mistake later. It's not like she had never done it before - she was far too curious to let something like that pass her by, and after a story or two about fireworks and earth shatters, she had been severely disappointed. Either by the exaggeration or her lack of ability to live up to it, she didn't know. But only a few times had she imagined someone with her before she stopped, concentrating on feeling instead. _Last night_ , she had not stopped them. And _now_ , she couldn't get them _out of her head_. Imagined or not, she had to forcefully shove them away from her mind whenever she had the smallest break in thought. A naked Draco Malfoy was not easily escaped from, and she grew angrier at herself the longer the day went.

When she had pictured Ron with her, it had felt like she was doing something wrong. He had been with a girlfriend, or she had remembered that it was her best friend she was thinking of that way. Malfoy had worked her up to the point where she forgot to remember that it might be wrong. It hadn't been too long after she thought of Ron that she was with Ron, and she no longer had to picture it. They never had sex, but he had touched her under the covers of his bed, and she knew what it felt like to have someone else's fingers there. The only time she ever let herself think of someone like that was right after she and Ron took a break over a year ago. She had thought of him in her bed at Hogwarts, remembering his body and his touch, and it had been the last time she did. Not because it felt wrong, it just... She had lost the desire to.

But then last night happened, and she learned why it was a good thing she had never thought of someone she wasn't supposed to before. _Mental images_. It hadn't stopped her, though. It still wasn't, because all she did when she glanced at him was wonder _how much she had been right_. Her brain was betraying her, and if she didn't need it so much, she might stab it with a pencil or something just to show it who was boss.

Malfoy turned towards her, setting the empty glass in the sink after he had chugged down the water. His lips were wet and his face was red, a shine of sweat on his forehead. Three times they had kissed. She wondered if that meant she could kiss him any time she wanted now, or if she would have to wait until she broke and lost control again. That was probably the whole reason why she lost control so easily - all that tension building up to it. So, really, if it was going to happen, then she should just do it whenever she felt like it. That way it would be normal, typical, average. So average that she would get it out of her blood, pull back to look at him, and conclude that she didn't feel like it anymore.

He was looking at her cautiously, and she realized that she was looking at him like he was an experiment. She dropped her eyes to her sandwich again, listening as he left.

**September 18; 4:00am**

They followed the mule path to the mountains, under the swinging light of the torch, and Hermione was glad to go.

**7:43pm**

Malfoy was staring at her neck. She could feel the press of his lips again, the swipe of his tongue, the suction of his mouth. There was a tender spot near the line of her shoulder, and she was sure he had left a mark there. His eyes raised to hers, and she flushed from the memory.


	26. Part Twenty-Six

**September 19; 3:04pm**

Hermione bit into a pear, glancing back at Malfoy. "You know, it's my birthday today."

She had felt the need to share that. She didn't think he would treat her any differently because of it, and she certainly didn't expect him to be happy about it, but it had been wanting to come off her tongue all day. Just to say something to acknowledge it, because it was a bit important to her life. Not in the way where she woke up when she was ten and grinned the whole day, but where she thought about her birth into this world and had too many images of semen and a uterus in her head. It was only slightly better than the Naked Malfoy ones.

He was silent for thirteen steps and then, "Happy Birthday, Granger."

**September 21; 4:08pm**

"I think we should write notes to ourselves."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, leaping over a fallen tree. "Do you normally write notes to yourself?"

"I mean if we end up going back. In time. What if we're always too late? I know we changed things now by partnering up - because I'm almost positive that if we decided to for even a little bit, this would not have lasted - but if we didn't change the end? What if we still take the same path? Maybe the magic here won't allow the spell to work, or--"

"The magic here is strong, but it couldn't stop blood magic. Not unless we were two squibs, hoping something would squeeze out of our heritage."

"I hope. But if we don't figure out a way to change the end, we'll just...circle through time, over and over. Doing this same thing. So I think we should carry notes to ourselves in our pocket. So when we go back, we know where to go right away."

He grumbled something, jerking to the side at the squirrel that launched itself up the tree next to him. They were both jumpy, waiting for the next bit of magic to come, and they knew it could come in anything. It was a still a little funny to see him jump like that from a squirrel, though, so she couldn't help but smile, and he glared in return.

**September 22; 6:44am**

They really needed to work out some sort of sign for the morning, when the other was sleeping and the head nod and turn wasn't there to show where they were going off to use the loo. He must not have traveled in too long before she awoke, or else she would have _heard_ it and promptly turned back.

Fortunately, he was turned away from her, so the most she saw was the looseness of his trousers at the waist, and the positioning of his right arm which must have meant he was...holding... He turned his head halfway towards her, and she would rather not admit that she saw his hips turn just a little too. His fingers reached up to rake through the sleep mess of his hair as she apologized, turning quickly towards safer places.

**September 23; 8:32am**

"Malfoy...I think the animals are running." She watched two more squirrels pass them a few meters away.

"Yeah, animals do that."

"No, I mean..." She stopped as a steady flow of running paws came from either side of them, and both their heads snapped up to see flocks of flamingos, gulls, and falcons fly over their heads.

She didn't even have time to lower her head before she was jerked around by Malfoy's grip on her arm. "Let's-"

"Wait, it might--"

But he wouldn't stop running or let go of her arm, so she followed after him, the sound of their pounding feet lost within those of the animals.

**5:39pm**

Whenever he was done discussing or arguing about something and she wasn't, he would either ignore her or scrunch his eyebrows together like he was deep in thought and he would get a wondering look on his face. As soon as she stopped talking for more than twenty seconds, his face would relax again. She used to think that he was just working through her words, but she was catching on to him now.

"--so it's not really the _complete_ formation. As Fuser stated in--"

"I had a dream about you last night."

She closed her mouth for a second, glancing behind her to see he had stopped trying to trick her with his expression. "Yeah?"

"Mm. You stopped talking. Vocal chords, ripped out."

"Sounds...horrible."

"No, just the opposite. Everyone in the world was happy. Wars stopped raging. Bad emotions ceased to exist. The world was a utopia."

She snorted. "What did I do with myself?"

"Only resident of Mungo's, actually."

"If it brought peace and happiness, I'm sure I was happy with--"

"No. You learned sign language." He clicked his tongue. "Added onto your already violent hand movements, and the world was thrown back into devastation."

"I hope I took it out on you."

"Of course. I've been onto your plan of ruining my life since I was ten."

She smiled, shaking her head. "And yet, it _still_ works."

"Underestimated the Gryffindor."

"Typical for a Slytherin."

He huffed. "Hardly my fault. My own weapon of true defense is murder. Then I would be in Azkaban, and you will still be ruining my life."

She grinned. "Clever me."

**September 24; 12:08pm**

The clouds shifted, and the sun sent beams of light through the trees. She only had a moment to think it was pretty - and to attempt figuring out what time it was by the direction of light - when one touched her arm and _burned_. She yanked her arm out of it hard enough to put her shoulder into another, crying out with Malfoy before she carefully pulled herself between the two beams. Malfoy was in front of her, and looked like he were having seizures by the way he kept jerking and twisting his body, only to hit another beam.

"Stand still!" she yelled, seeing delicate curls of smoke rising from his clothes. "It's fucking burning me!"

"Stop moving so-- To the side! Turn to the side!"

He did, yanking his arm out of one before standing very still. She looked down at the pink burn on her arm and then carefully piled her hair on the crown of her head. She looked around her slowly, not wanting to turn her face into scalding heat, and noted where the sunbeams were around her. The back of her trainer was in one, the rubber melting, and she quickly pulled it forward.

"Okay." Malfoy was still locked in the same position. "You're okay to move your head to check where they are. Just don't tilt it far back."

She skirted around the beams towards him when they shifted through the trees. One hit her in the back of her thigh, her shoulder, her arm, and seared a path across the middle of her back as she moved. Malfoy was swearing loudly in front of her, but she could barely hear it over her own yells. She found a spot without light, her leg bent up and her arms straight above her head. She felt like she were a gymnast about to start a routine. Malfoy looked frozen in the middle of a karate move, his face furious.

"Step left and turn around. We have to be quick," she breathed, twisting her body around the beams.

"No shit," he snapped, and they both tried to run around the beams as quickly as they could.

**3:03pm**

"Are you burned badly?" They were still eying any beams of sunlight in distrust, but the three she could see hadn't shifted in the past two minutes.

"Define _badly_."

The beams hadn't been that hot - their clothes had mostly protected them if they hadn't stayed in the light for more than a second. They were still hot enough for her to feel tight patches of skin across her back, and she had pink circles and lines on her arms, hand, and shoulder from what she could see. Part of her shoe was slightly melted, there were a few holes in her shirt, and scorch marks in her jeans. Malfoy was slightly worse, if only because he took awhile to understand the concept of panic not helping.

"Did you happen to pick up any burn cream?" He was silent, so she didn't think so. She had forgotten that at the shop too, though she had remembered a few other creams and pain relief medication. She _would_ have remembered the burn cream if he had told her about the money _before_ , and given her time to make a list.

"I have some," he finally answered. Oh. _Oh_ , he had it from the last time.

He stopped walking, pulling his bag around him to dig through it, and she noticed the black burns on his were a lot less than on hers. She was scared her bag was going to fall apart at any moment after all the things it had been through. She pulled to a stop a few steps behind him, straightening out the hem of her shirt as she watched him. He turned from her just a little, pulling the cream out from the bag, and she was unsure if he planned on sharing or not. She still had herbs tucked inside the zipper of her bag, but if-- He turned to hold the tube out to her, and she gave him a thankful smile, pulling it from between his fingers.

He set his bag on the ground, curling the finger with the glob of cream towards his palm as he reached behind him with his other hand. He grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head, and it took her a second to remember cream, burns, and squeezing the tube. He had three burns on his back, the one between his shoulder blades the worst, and a small one over his ribs. She watched his fingers rub over his skin as hers did her own, squeezing another glob onto the pad of his finger when he held it out.

She saw his hand try to climb up his back and then over his shoulder to reach the burn between his shoulder blades, and she looked down at the shine of cream on her fingers before moving forward. He stood very still, his hand frozen over his shoulder as her fingers touched his skin. She rubbed the cream over his burn gently, and she might not have needed to press her other hand to the side of his back to do it. His body heat pushed into her skin, and his hand slowly pulled back from his shoulder, but his spine didn't relax. She could feel his calm breathing under her palm, and felt him hold it when her finger gently traced the edge of the burn, and goosebumps rose down his back.

She dropped her hands away, pretending she hadn't had to force herself to do it, or that she didn't suddenly develop an interest in his reactions to her touch. Her eyes followed down his spine, the path her fingers had wanted to travel, before dropping to the tube of cream. "I think--"

He plucked the tube from her fingers, nodding his chin when she looked up at him. Her lips formed around an _oh_ , and she hesitated before turning her back towards him. She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and lifted it up until the middle of her back was showing, hoping that it actually looked burned instead of just feeling like it. Malfoy was silent and unmoving for three seconds - which was enough time for her to open her mouth to ask him - but then his fingers touched down.

She gave a little bounce at the coolness of the cream, but it warmed in the circling of his fingers. She thought he was standing a little closer than he had to when she felt his breath against the back of her head, but she didn't mind it. He worked the cream over the burn line, gentling his touch when she pushed her shoulders back and swayed away from his rub on the most painful spot. His hand came up to the side of her back, his fingers slipping around the curve of her waist as if to keep her in place. She held her breath for a second before she remembered how she felt it when he did so, and she pushed it out slowly.

"Is this it?" His voice was lower, and he pushed his thumb up her skin as he spun small circles along the edge of the burn.

She hummed a confirmation and nodded for good measure. His hand ghosted down to her waist, and when he pulled away after the action gave her goosebumps, she wondered if that was what he had been waiting for.

**September 25; 6:41am**

She narrowed her eyes as she pulled her penguin's head out of the ground, flashing a vengeful look towards Malfoy's bag as she blew the dirt off from her little head.

**1:29pm**

One of the animals cocked its head at her, lips pulling back over sharp rows of teeth. She looked over at Malfoy in the green glow, finding a big creature instead, and sniffed. "It reminds me of that song...it's an old song. It goes _leader of the pack_. It-- Well, I guess you wouldn't know it anyway."

Grey eyes cut into her before the creature sighed. "You look--"

"Probably the way you do, so I wouldn't insult me for an illusion neither of us have any control over."

She gave him a look and he grinned, which was still frightening despite knowing it was an illusion. "Your hair is out of control even in beast form."

"You look like a beast even without the illusion."

She couldn't tell, but she was betting at least one eyebrow was up. "Do I?" he drawled.

"Yes. And with your personality? Take a good look, Malfoy. It's only a matter of time before you wake up one morning and find yourself like this forever."

She thought he muttered something about trolls and beasts, but she couldn't be sure. "I'm going to throw something at these bats."

"...Why would you do that?"

"Because I want to see how long it takes for them to get trapped in your hair."

"Oh, did you want to see how long it takes for me to throw you into that blue fire light over there?"

"I'd rather not. I'd be dead by the time you managed to get me halfway there. I'm stronger, and you're prone to cramping and heaving for air like--"

"From the one who was gasping for air so hard he started gagging."

" _One_ time. And--"

"Didn't think I noticed that, did you?" She was smug.

"All right, how about when you started hugging that tree, and proclaiming that you couldn't feel your legs? Or--"

"I _ran_ all the way up--"

"--suffocating on your own shirt. Then there was--"

"--said your ribs were breaking, and--"

"--a full two minutes of ranting under your breath about the disadvantages of having breasts. Didn't think I heard _that_ , did--"

"Let's try those rocks over there," she cut him off, pretending she did not hear that last bit and neither had he. "It looks like the only proper exit, so we'll have to remove enough rocks to slide through."

He hummed, and she glanced between him and the tunnel of blue light in warning.

**September 26; 7:30pm**

She dug in his bag, looking for his penguin to get her revenge. She found him hidden between Malfoy's old shirt and robe, and she grinned victoriously as she pulled him from the bag. Her knuckles hit against something that _pop-crink_ _le_ d, and she froze, staring at the square of bloodstained cloth next to a razor and tube of toothpaste. She pushed her fingers forward, feeling it again, and then pulled his bag open more to see what it was. Her eyebrows drew together at the blank space, and she narrowed her eyes, poking a finger at the side of the bag. She felt it again, and her eyes searched for a zipper, finding a small flap of material near the top.

She pushed her finger under it, feeling along the zipper to the little pull. She glanced up to make sure Malfoy wasn't going to come barging through the trees, and then quickly unzipped it, sliding her hand into the little slot. Her two fingers closed around whatever it was and she pulled it out, watching a roll of parchment appear from the flap.

She stood up, unrolling it quickly, and the curious squint of her eyes grew wide. It was definitely a _map_ , as crude it was. Lines were drawn for mountains, what might have been rivers, and there were two strange symbols in different places, circled. There was a single circle at the peak of a mountain on the left, close to one of the symbols, and there was a black smudge at the bottom corner that could have been ink or blood. Hermione's eyes scanned over it again, wondering if Draco had known about this. It had been hidden in that side department, so it could have belonged to the man who originally owned it. If--

She looked up, sensing his presence more than she had heard it, and saw him three meters from her. He was as still as the tree behind him, unmoving in the soft breeze or under the hardness that started in her gaze. He wasn't looking at the _map_ , he was looking at _her_. He seemed completely unsurprised by the presence of a roll of parchment in her hands. _He had known_ _._

"What. Is. This?" She held it up, but he still didn't look away from her. "Hm?"

"You know what it is."

She almost wrinkled it up, her fingers threatening to clench under the shot of anger that settled hotly inside her blood. Her breath was shaky, her lips narrowing to a thin line.

"Where did you get it? _What_ \--"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Did you--"

"I saw the map at the bottom of your bag. You--"

"I got that before! That is for Thrace! I found that in the cave, when we got pushed into that lake, when we were still against one another! What is it to? Is it for here, or--"

"We _are_ still against one another. Acting like I'm a fool only turns you into one, Granger! I know you plan on getting Floralis before me, so do not try to parade yourself--"

"If you told me your intentions--"

"You still wouldn't trust me! You--"

"Or maybe I wouldn't trust what you're going to _do with it_! Which can't be anything that good if you refuse--"

"Or it is, but it's not your fucking busi--"

"Then no, I wouldn't let you have it, or part of it, or one of them, if I can't know--"

"And how do you know it's going to be so safe in _your_ hands? You--"

"I'm helping people!"

"At the cost of _what_? You expose that plant to the world, in whatever means, and the world is going to eat it for fucking breakfast. Time and tide, Granger! Always something better, always--"

"It could be limited by force to--"

"Bullshit! If there are people like us who will go through all this _shit_ to get it, do you not think there are people who will go to any means for it? For time travel, for resurrection, for immortality? I don't care if you put it behind a thousand wards, you'll have the fucking person who put it there taking pieces. You put it in the blood or stomach of someone to heal them, and you'll have someone else trying to siphon it out. Or the Healer shoving--"

" _Stop changing the subject_! This is about _this_ map, and--"

"No, this is about _you_ and your hypocrisy, your--"

"How am I--"

"--still watch the other's step when we walk into a cave, or a house, because you don't want to let me have a bit of it. And I refuse to stand back while I'm going through this, and let you hold me back. We always knew it would come down to the end! We always knew that it would last until whatever happened with the scars passed, and that it must have happened when we got the plant since we went back in time. So it was us until that moment was over, and then we were on our own--"

"If it's us to the end then-"

“-- _you_ made it that way! I don't give a shit what you want to do with it, but I want enough for what I came for. _You_ can't handle the idea of me having it, so _you_ would try to refuse me, so you made it where I couldn't tell you--"

"Oh, this is _just. Like. You_. Never accepting responsibility! You have to blame it all on someone else instead of acknowledging that it was _your_ _choice_! You--"

"Fuck you, Granger."

"--blame it all on me, because that makes it so much easier for you. Your excuses for being--"

"Do not tell me you wouldn't do the same!" He screamed this so loudly that she took a step back, fear clenching her chest for a moment. "If you had got it, you would not have told me a thing about it! You're pissed at me for something you would have done in a second. You--"

"That is not true! If this is a map to where we have to go, then there would have been no point--"

"Unless those are three different places that the plant is. Unless there are certain things you would need at each one. You would try to twist me on that path towards them without letting me know, and if we found the plant in the first, you wouldn't tell me of the other two. _Don't fucking lie to me_!"

She stared back at him, catching her breath, and lowered her eyes to the map. He was right. She wouldn't have told him about it - but it still somehow felt like betrayal. Her hands were shaking and there was a tightness in her chest. She traced the lines on the map, circling her finger around the symbols. No, she wouldn't have told him. It made her feel centuries away from him. She had thought... She had thought wrong, in her relation to him. She didn't know why she had felt like they were close, like they were...when all this time, this thing has always been a wall between them. Unbreakable, and always separating. She couldn't give him half of the plant when they found it because he wouldn't tell her. Because it was too dangerous for what he might use it for. But that didn't mean that she didn't...

She had been stupid. No matter how close she became to him, no matter how far they got from the past, the future was always there to destroy that. It had been this whole time. They would turn against one another in the end - unless he told her what he wanted it for. Didn't he understand that it was that easy? That he could make this burn at the bottom of her throat dissipate with _words_. Simple, simple words.

"You said got." Her voice came out thick and she cleared her throat, looking up at him. "You got it. Not found it, but got."

Everything left his face. The vein at his temple and the red across his cheeks was enough to still prove his anger, but he shut down. "The vineyard."

"The... Where we were?" Hermione gestured over her shoulder, and she laughed dryly, hollowly. "The vineyard. The...repayment, and the guy, and, sure. Right. The vineyard. You wouldn't tell me, and I got over it. Figured I should just...trust you." She cocked her head and stretched her lips at him, his jaw clenching. "Well, then that--"

She lowered her eyes to the ground, a moment coming back in her mind. They could have been discussing the map right in front of her that whole time, and she wouldn't have even known. He had, though. She remembered the kiss in the  
hallway, the flash of his eyes to the window at the bang from outside right before he had kissed her. Before he had distracted her from looking. The way he had paused in the hall, the way he had grabbed her before she could pass him...or get a view through the window.

"In the hall, when you kissed me-- You were distracting me. You were trying to keep me from seeing whatever was happening outside. It had to deal with the map, didn't it? You..." He was silent, but it was answer enough. "You _used_ me!"

"What? I would not call that _using_ you. It--"

"You did it to distract me!"

"To my own fucking detriment! It distracted _me_! I didn't even see what was going on outside, I just knew that he was--"

"You used me! I--"

"I did _not use you_!"

"Then you must have got so used to doing it that you don't even realize it anymore! Kissing people to get what you want, no problem. You are a cold-hearted bastard! You're one of those guys who go around and sleep with any woman they want to, promising them to care, and then toss them out when you're done! Who uses people as you see fit, and care _nothing_ for others emotions or feel--"

"You don't even know how wrong you are right now. You--"

"I'm right! You are! You're--"

"I haven't even shagged anyone! How _right_ are you? You..." He trailed off and looked like he couldn't believe he said that more than she couldn't.

He yelled, throwing the water bottle in his hand viciously before looking up at the sky, as if he had just shared the secrets of the universe on accident, and now the gods were going to destroy him. He swore savagely and half turned away from her. He slowly dropped his head, looking at the ground for a moment, before looking at her in a way that told her he was now blaming her for it.

"Fine." It came out weak, so she tried again. "Fine. But you still used it against me. For this. This map. Well..."

She cleared her throat, walking over to her bag. She threw her water bottle inside, her knife, her penguin-revenge materials, and then threw his penguin back to his bag. She lifted her bag over her shoulder, straightening her clothes, and pushed her hair back. He had that look on his face that people get when they had an extremely hard day, and then it started to rain on their way home from work. The _you cannot be serious_ face, but they half expected it anyway, and it was bitterly fitting.

"I know this is really important to you, so here it is. You can take it and _sod off_." She reached out to hand the map to him, but he didn't move to take it.

It was like his stillness snapped that tiny, flimsy wall of calm she was trying her hardest to shove up against a dam. Snapped it, and her hand was flying back before she knew it was, and the smack of the map upside his head was hardly satisfactory. So she did it again, again, again. She smacked him about the head and face and shoulders, and all he did was turn his cheek away from her and scowl. It only made her angrier. She wanted to piss him off. She wanted to do something that made him angry enough that he snapped too. That he looked like he cared. _At all_.

She threw the map at him and stomped off, ignoring the wet heat down her cheeks, the tremble in her hands, or that tight hardness aching in her chest.

**10:48pm**

It was dark without the torch, but she didn't care. Her anger and thoughts kept her going long before she even realized the roots she tripped over, or the trees she hit off of. She didn't know if she was angrier at Malfoy or herself, but she suddenly regretted every action and questioned every move from the first moment she could remember that damn Recognition of Attraction creeping up on her. It felt like every good moment had turned bad when put in perspective of the end. Like laughing as you run through the mud, until you find out you there was no water and have to go for who knew how long covered in dirt.

She didn't know what they were, but she knew she had some sort of _relationship_ with him. She wouldn't call him her boyfriend, but she might... She wouldn't call them enemies, not anymore. They might have even been getting somewhere close to friends, who also liked to randomly snog one another at times. There were moments that she _enjoyed_ , that she laughed about later. There were moments where they saved each other's lives. There were moments that scared her because her heart would beat too hard, and her stomach would twist all up, and everything felt very much alive and uncontrolled inside of her. She had gotten very used to seeing him sleeping a meter or two from her, and being with her _constantly_ , and always having to be on her toes. There were moments that made her think she could still hate him, but they were few and getting further, and always ended quickly.

She didn't know if there was a name for all of that. She didn't know what it _meant_ , but it had meant _something_. She hadn't thought the end mattered as much as did, but if he could use kissing her just to distract her as a way to reach that end first, then maybe it did matter more than what was going on between them. It must have. And he must have known that, when he got so distracted with distracting her, and they hadn't kissed since. The plant was the end goal, and one of them had to get it before the other, no matter what it would mean to this. _This_ was a distraction, _this_ would end bitterly. She just had to remind herself of that, of the map he had hidden from her, of how she would have had to hide it from him too. It would be easy. It would be so _simple_. Hating Draco Malfoy must be like...riding a bike. That's all - riding a bike.

**September 27; 8:17am**

She went to jump to her feet at the sound behind her, but fell back down to her bum as something dropped in her lap. She looked down at the roll of parchment, at the map, and lifted angry eyes to the trees in front of her.

"Unroll it."

She didn't respond to him at first - didn't move at all. Her curiosity got the best of her, though, and she was just a little annoyed with herself when she looked down at the map. She felt the weight from when it had landed, so she knew something must have been in it. She sniffed as she reached down, unrolling across her lap, and stared in confusion at the wooden figure.

She picked it up, bringing it closer to her face to inspect it. It was... It was _them_. Not in perfect definition, but there was no denying it. A woman with curly hair and her nose and chin, and a man with his nose and jaw. Their foreheads were pressed together, their hands locked between them. There was a line around their wrists, a little line of wood hanging from their hands in the empty space. A wall was behind them, a line carved in it that started at her back and arced around to his.

"I found it in that house, the one with all the wooden figurines. The word at the bottom, between us...it means _finally_." She ran her finger across the word, not lifting her eyes from their wooden faces. "That's the last of what I've found and kept from you."

She turned it over in her hand, searching for anything else, but there wasn't anything. If he had found it in the house...how... Someone must have seen this moment. Someone who had got their hands on the plant, or maybe just a Seer, and they had been relieved for it. _Finally_. This must have been the moment they were building up to, with their hands pressed together like that. It must have been when they performed the spell. Maybe that little line of wood was their blood. She stared at it, shocked by the wooden glance of her future.

"I cannot stand that there is a future for me that is predetermined, but I've accepted it, because it is inevitable. That figure, the scars - no matter what, that moment is supposed to happen with you. It's why we decided to join up in the first place. If we fail - however we might have failed - again, then I would rather send us back in time than be there alone and find a grimmer consequence. You know that we don't have a choice."

They didn't - though she was very curious as to why someone would think _finally_ for the moment they used a protection spell. She wished that the time they figured out how to do it would hurry up and come so she could know what this might mean. They must have still done it - no matter if they had changed things by sticking together this time, they must have still ended up finding out how to do the spell. Or else this figurine wouldn't exist, because by changing the course they took this time with a different end result, they would have changed the vision the person saw in the past. But it had all stayed the same, even if they had partnered now. She could only hope the results would be different.

"In the hallway--"

"Doesn't matter." She placed the figure back on the map, staring down at them, at the place their foreheads touched.

"I won't do it again."

She wondered if he meant kissing her, or kissing her for ulterior motives. Not that it mattered. Kissing him was finished business. Who knew what would happen after they found the plant - what they would do to try and make sure the other didn't get it. What she would do. And if finding out that he used her Recognition of Attraction against her like that had...been difficult to accept, then it was a good idea not to get any closer to him. It would only make the end result a harder thing to deal with.

"How did you find me?"

"I followed you."

She looked up at him at that, surprised. "You stalked me?"

From the accusation or hearing her voice a little closer, he dragged his eyes from the forest in front of them and to her face. "You walk erratically when you're angry. I knew it would be harder to find you if I didn't."

Fantastic. He had seen the angry wiping of her tears then, and heard all her muttering. She probably looked like an idiot. It was a level only he could pull her down to.

"Well. Let's figure out the map."

**12:21pm**

They couldn't tell what island it was. Hermione tried to find the old island brochures to study the pictures and compare them to the map, but then Malfoy reminded her of the magic. They climbed far more mountains than what was viewable from the coast or the sky, and the Islands seemed to expand past the magical walls. The map wasn't really _specific_ or measured. They had no idea what sort of distance the person had used, or if they had just gone off _thereabouts_.

Going off the map, there were at least five mountains. By the little bumps spread randomly, she was guessing it was a bit hilly. There were at least three notable rivers, two of them merging into one near the bottom of the map. Besides that, nothing was clear. Their greatest clue was the symbol on a mountain to the left, small hills surrounding it. A mountain separated from any grouping and on the side of the island would be the clue they would have to look for at each one. If it wasn't there, past the magical wall, they would leave for the next one.

Which was why she found herself heading towards the next mountain. Once they climbed to the top, they would look over across the island for any peak in the distance. If it wasn't there, they would leave Salina and head to one of the others. Once they found the right island, they could figure out the roughness of the map.

**September 28; 11:22am**

Malfoy turned a full circle with the binoculars before pointing them westward again. "There isn't a mountain over there."

She shrugged. "Mind if I look?"

He didn't appear like he was going to let her at first, but then he met her glare with his own and held the binoculars out. She looked west and only found the sea. He was holding his hand out for them before she even lowered them from her face, and she didn't slap it hard enough into his palm. He made an aggravated sound that was a little push away from a growl, putting the binoculars back into his bag.

"I think we should go off that way anyway. There could be another magical wall there that's preventing us from seeing it from here."

His jaw clenched as he looked out over the island. "And you didn't think of this _before_ we wasted a day climbing the mountain?"

She shrugged again, pushing her hair behind her ears as she started down the rocky slope. "And you didn't think of it at all."

**September 29; 7:25am**

She grabbed the cream out of his hand after watching him try to reach his burn by popping his arm out of the socket. An arm really wasn't supposed to move that way, but she watched him fumble, get red in the face, and wince for a good three minutes before she decided to help.

"I didn't--"

She rubbed the cream on gently, her eyes strictly analyzing the even spread of the cream across his pink-burned skin. It looked like it was healing up just fine, but it must have been really bothering him if he tried so long to reach it. Malfoy had the patience of a shark in front of wounded prey.

Her eyes followed from the burn to his shoulder, tracing the line of a scar. She quickly turned her eyes back to the cream, but her curiosity spoke up before her attempt at ignorance could solidify. "Where did you get that?"

He froze up, and with the stiffness that was already locking his body up, she was surprised his spine didn't poke through the top of his back. He went _rigid_. She was thinking about how it must have been a bad memory when he spun around, grabbing the hand that had been rubbing the cream on, and jerked her towards him. Her body collided with his as he pulled her arm up, despite her tug to bring it back down to her.

"Ow!" she yelled, wondering why he had to be so violent and aggressive as she shoved him in the shoulder.

He bent her wrist back, his eyes on her palm, and the fierceness in his face faded. He was looking at her scar, she realized. He reached out a finger to feel along the line of it, his knuckles brushing down her palm, and she was angry at the gentleness of his touch, at the way it made her fine hairs stand on end.

"You thought I was--"

"Why did you ask me where I got the burn from?" His eyes were very serious, and she blinked at him, looking down to where he was still holding her wrist.

"I asked about the scar. On your shoulder."

He looked down at the top of her head, his eyes traveling down to hers, and slowly relaxed the death grip on her wrist. "Quidditch."

"Okay."

He let go of her arm and she pulled it back to her, rubbing the sore bones before holding out the burn ointment. He looked at it, scowled over at her bag where her herbs were in the tin, and then walked away without taking it.

**4:27pm**

It _looked_ like Bill, but it wasn't. It had the same sharp teeth, clawed hands, and strange eyes, but a different face. She had really been hoping that Bill was the only one of his kind. Then again, he might be now - the creature that was like him was definitely dead. There were several slashes across the stomach and its face was slit. The cheek was flapped down onto its jaw, revealing tissue, gums, and exposing his back teeth.

Hermione pursed her lips and swallowed down the gag reflex, turning her head away. "I'm not sure if I should be happy about that."

"I'm fucking delighted. One less of those we have to worry about. I'd rather not wake up to you attacking me again."

A kaleidoscope of images twisted in her mind: watching him from the trees, him yelling out her name as he searched for her, the fear on his face when she attacked, his sweat on her tongue, that day in the valley when he kissed her the first time.

"Let's go. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

**September 30; 6:22am**

They sat in stony silence as they gathered up their things for the day. Which was good, she reminded herself. This was a business arrangement anyway. Both of them needed the other for a mutual gain of life and then that was it. There was no reason to be friendly or to talk. It was like how most places had rules against dating co-workers. It made business sloppy - left people unfocused from the true goal. If things went bad in the relationship, things went bad in the business. It was a distraction. It was best not to even bother being friendly. Civil, yes. A civil, _if we almost die today, I will try to save your life_. No reason to be friends for something like that.

She told herself that thinking about how he was a virgin was not crossing that civil line. She couldn't _help_ it. He had just thrown that out there - regrettably, on his part, to prove a point or not - and there wasn't a way for her not to think about it. She just hadn't really thought of him as someone who held onto their virginity. She doubted it was by choice. Perhaps pure-blood girls were the _save it for marriage_ type - at least the ones that he would have thought it acceptable to be around. Or by the time any of them were willing to have sex with him, there wasn't really time for it. He had been preparing for his role of becoming a Death Eater when he was fifteen, turning sixteen that summer he had officially become one. Then there was that whole business during sixth year with the Vanishing Cabinet and his orders. She didn't know if even a teenage male was that concentrated on fornicating when him and his family's lives were on the line. Then there had been the war, and then the trials.

It was strange. She had thought by the way he went on about hers that he must have had sex years ago. He probably had been trying to cover up his own sexual inexperience by pointing out hers. She doubted he was _that_ inexperienced anyway - not when he kissed her like that. Being a virgin didn't amount to being a complete novice. She wondered how far he had--

Perhaps this was crossing the civil line. Very uncivil, actually. _Civil, civil_. Court hearings, friendly nods, handshakes, politeness. Silence.


	27. Part Twenty-Seven

**October 2; 3:02pm**

She didn't think they had talked a lot. She didn't think she had come to rely on his company. She didn't think they were _that_ friendly, had _that_ many conversations, or that she had come to enjoy his presence that much. Not until she didn't anymore. Not until they were so silent that her voice was probably fading away from disuse.

She somehow felt like she was...missing him. Even with him right there. She must have been a masochist. She should not be treated badly half the time and still feel like this. Her father was not a screamer, did not knock her down, or anger easily - there should have been no subconscious pull leading her back to Malfoy. Nothing that made her think maybe she shouldn't be so angry over a kiss with ulterior motives and a lack of reasoning.

**October 3; 1:11am**

She woke to pain in her shoulder and something thudding on the other side of her. She only pushed up, locking her elbows, when Malfoy grabbed her arm and wrenched her forward. She yelled out, her knees scraping across the ground as her face grew tight with anger. It took a second for the sound to penetrate the fog of her sleepy head - the rising volume of a long thunder barreling towards them.

"Run," he breathed, hauling her to her feet as she grabbed the sheet with her free hand.

She went to look for her bag but he jerked her wobbly feet forward as he ran, and she saw it hitting off his over his shoulder. His hand slipped into hers as she went with him, not knowing if they could defeat whatever animal was making so much noise, even with two people who had knives. They ran through the darkness, hitting off things and tripping, but just kept going. Panting, sweating, and bruised, still clutching the other's hand.

**October 4; 8:20pm**

She folded her arms over her raised knees, looking at him. He was trying to ignore her, but she could tell that he noticed by the way he went from calm and blank to angry. It wasn't an easy anger to see, but it was in the way his jaw would clench periodically and the way his eye started twitching.

He swung his eyes up to hers finally, glaring at her. She narrowed her eyes to glare harder, and he sneered. She did it right back to him, but raised her lip until she looked like she had the Elvis lip pull going on as she mocked his look. By the angle of his eyebrows and the lift of his nose she knew he was clearly thinking she was an idiot.

She tapped her fingers on her knees when he looked like he was thinking of violent things. She wasn't surprised when this seemed to relax him a bit, but her continued staring pushed him back to anger in less than three seconds. He reached into his bag, pulling out the binoculars, and slid them halfway towards her. He stared back at her when she started glaring at him again. He knew she would like to read right now until her tiredness fully caught up to her, and he also knew it would stop her staring. But then he put them in a place where she would have to _get up_ to get them, which was more like losing.

He lowered his eyes back to the dagger, and it only took less than a minute of his ignorance for her to huff her way over to the binoculars. She shot his smirk a very evil look.

**October 5; 2:02pm**

She didn't know if she should feel offended when she followed the line of his eyes. It wasn't like she had never stared at Malfoy's chest before, among other things. She also still felt a little guilty about certain _imaginings_ in an event that _never happened_ , so being uncomfortable now might be payment. However, it made her feel exposed, and she also didn't think it was very _civil_ of him to be staring at her breasts. Especially with that look on his face. Oranges, but darker, and her breath caught a little before she looked down at her sheet, making sure it was secure and nothing was showing. She turned her back towards him with a lot of quick blinking and a _humph_ , sending him a glare over her shoulder, though he _still_ wasn't meeting her eyes. She was stuck between going back into the trees and away from the river, or throwing a rock at him.

**October 6; 7:20pm**

She was going crazy - cabin fever of the brain. There was only so much thinking she could do before she needed to open up a book or talk to someone. She had read the miniature books in her bag at least a dozen times, and she was starting to memorize them, which was not good at all for mental escape.

She started muttering to herself, and laughing out loud at her thoughts. While that had been funny at first, since it seemed to scare the crap out of Malfoy, it was starting to scare the crap out of her now. She found herself going off on wild tangents in her mind about things like donkey tails, and what would happen if a sheep had the ability to do martial arts. When she found herself absurdly interested in the movement of an ant across the ground, she thought she might have a problem.

**October 7; 6:54pm**

She zoomed the binoculars in on whatever Oh Blond One was whittling. She had been getting increasingly bored with her book and increasingly curious about whatever he was trying to keep concealed from her. She was not going to let the opportunity the binoculars presented pass her by.

Malfoy's hands paused as she tried to make out what he was shaping the stick into, and she found herself lifting the binoculars up to see his face before she caught herself. She slowly pulled her eyes up to look at him, lowering the binoculars to her lap.

"Are you eye-raping me?"

Her mouth dropped. "Wha-- I was looking at your sti-- No!" She coughed over the dry pull in her throat from finally talking. "I meant _the_ stick, and just because it was in the _area_ of--" His eyebrow was twitching as she flushed, and she glared at him as he smirked.

"Want to go hide behind a bush, Granger? Catch me while I'm bathing? Maybe--"

"I was just wondering _how_ far I would have to zoom in." He glared, she smirked.

**October 8; 8:24am**

She grinned at the fish she had caught, the most excitement in her life since they had been forced to find their way out of those shifting cages again yesterday morning. She glanced over at Malfoy, her eyes dropping when she saw him looking back at her. Her grin faltered, and she made her way back to the riverbank. She laid her spear down, pulling the hunting knife out of her bag, and set about preparing it.

She looked up at the splash of water as Malfoy got out of the river, and her eyes darted away when she saw just how much those shorts were...sticking. Her face flamed, and she glanced back again because of the crack of a twig. Her eyes didn't make it very far past his waist before they snapped back down to the fire, wide and embarrassed. Mental images be damned.

**1:38pm**

Hermione clutched her stomach, hunched over behind a tree, her back facing Malfoy's back a few meters away. "Do you think it poisoned us?"

"I'm fucking sure it did." He started gagging halfway through his sentence, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, as if pushing her eyelids down hard enough would seal up her eardrums.

"The magic, I mean." She had waited until after he had finished vomiting before explaining more.

She rubbed her stomach as she moved away from the mess she had made behind the tree, going for the toothbrush in her bag. Her throat had an acidic burn at the back of it, and her mouth was disgusting. Malfoy turned away from whatever mess he had left behind the tree and collapsed against the front of it.

"I don't know." He opened his eyes, taking a deep breath before he brought his face down to look at her.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and grabbed his bag, dropping it near his feet in case he wanted to brush his teeth. He gave her a nod, though she wished he would have kept talking. She missed talking to him. She missed conversation, and rude remarks, and bickering about everything from philosophy to the way a worm burrowed. She needed to know what he wanted the plant for, and then all of this no talking, stupid mess could go away. Maybe.

**October 9; 10:10am**

"My reasons are my own! I'm not an idiot - I'm not going to destroy the world, no matter how much you think I don't give a shit about people. I have a _soul_. If you can't trust me now, after all of this, you never--"

"I trusted you once, and--"

"It was one fucking mistake! I kissed you to distract you, and it didn't even work to my benefit to see what was outside!" That had not been what she was referring to - more the trusting his reasoning behind being at the vineyards, so she didn't know why he automatically jumped to the kissing bit. "How do you even have a friend? How do you have a single relationship with _anyone_ when you cannot let go of _one. Fucking. Mistake_?"

"Maybe I'm sick of accepting your mistakes," she snapped, and immediately regretted it with the look on his face.

His head cocked back like she had just knocked him in the chin, his tongue pushing into his cheek. "Oh." He nodded and bit his lips, looking away from her. "All right."

He turned to walk away. "Wait, Draco--"

"No one fucking asked you to! If you want to hate me, then hate me. If you want to make false judgments, accuse me of shit. If you want to spit on my grave, then--"

"That's a little dram--"

"I. Don't. Care. You can--"

"I don't hate you! I'm just-- I wish you would tell me what you wanted it for, and then maybe this could be over! We could..."

"What? Be friends?" He laughed at her; dull, hollow, robotic.

She stared at him as he walked away, thinking of what he said. _Even have a friend, a single relationship..._ So he thought of them as more than old enemies too. He had seen them as at least more than what they used to be. He didn't care if she took some of the plant. He just wanted _enough_ , for something. He wouldn't try to keep her away from the plant, he was just trying to keep her from not giving him any. She still didn't see it as her fault. _Why did he have to be so stubborn?_

"Dra--"

"It doesn't matter!" He turned back around, throwing his arms out. "No matter what I tell you, if it's not the worst possible shit you've thought up for my uses in your head, you won't believe me! You're _convinced_ it's something horrible--"

"Because you won't tell me!"

"Why would that matter? Why would me telling you matter at all? If it actually was something bad - what would you do that was any different from what you were doing now? You would just be sure in your fucked up little head that you were _right all along_ , because Merlin forbid if you're not always right! You would just be sure that you would have to stop me after the spell, and _nothing would change_ from now!"

"Then--"

"Except maybe you won't talk to me - which I've thought of telling you I was doing something insanely horrifying just to do that! Not telling you does not equal something bad, but if that's the way you think of--"

"So there's no reason not to tell me either way--"

"I already told you about the fucking book, Granger! You don't get to know everything about me! You think you're so fucking high up there on your judgment stool, and that _everyone_ should tell you everything you want to know so you can make your half-arsed opinions on them. It doesn't work like that! The world does not bow to your feet no matter how many times you try to save it, and I--"

"You don't know me _at all_ if you think I expect the world--"

"I know you, Granger. I know you better than yourself most days, and--"

"Yeah, I highly doubt that when you try to--"

"No one wants to know the worst of themselves, and you can't _stand_ hearing it. You're far too comfortable casting that scrutiny on other people, like _me_."

"If you tell me, I'll believe you."

"No, you won't. If it possibly sounds like I might not kill people or destroy the very nature of time, you'll think I'm lying. So shut the fuck up and _drop it_."

**1:13pm**

She wondered if he really wasn't telling her because he figured she wouldn't believe him. Stupidest excuse ever. She knew he wasn't trying to get it to heal people, so what could he want it for? Immortality - he had brought that up a bit. There must have been some reason he didn't want her to know, beyond proving the point that she couldn't know everything. Unless he really just liked to see it bother her so badly that there was some sort of important knowledge right in front of her that he had the power to keep her from obtaining. He was screwed up like that.

She knew he wouldn't be resurrecting Voldemort, but maybe Crabbe. She wondered if he wanted to do it for the time travel - to change his past. She couldn't allow him to do that, because it could screw up _everything_. With how the wands worked, and Harry grabbing his, and the defeat of Voldemort - surely Draco realized the role he played in all of that, and how _easily_ he could ruin everything if he went back to change even one thing.

Maybe he just wanted it to always see the future. He would never make a wrong decision again. It could bring him everything he wanted, and nothing he wished to avoid. It was almost like...well, it sounded like the artificial life she had talked to him about before.

She couldn't know unless he told her, and he didn't seem to want to tell her. So she thought about trust, and she wondered if she had enough of it to give him. The plant was so dangerous she hardly trusted herself with it, and she didn't want to do anything with it but cure people. He might not even _mean_ to do something bad, but it would be easy, depending on what he was planning on. He had had a valid point, though - if he really was doing something bad with it, and told her, it wouldn't have changed her decision on stopping him, so it wouldn't have mattered. Maybe he really wasn't doing _anything_ bad with it.

She thought that, just maybe, her opinion counted for something with him. That her lack of a good one in relation to his motives was the reason he became so angry, instead of just brushing her off. The guilt was eating her up as badly as the indecision and lack of knowing. She wasn't the sort of person who stomped on people when they were down. Especially when that person happened to be someone she was...civil with. Someone who had saved her life, had... Especially when that person could get _that_ look on his face at her complete disregard for any good intentions while coupled with his character.

She didn't want this to tear to shreds everything time had spent months building. She didn't want to go back to what they were when this started in February. Too much had happened, and she had gotten to know him too well. It...felt like losing. She could get the plant first, cross the barrier, and make him tell her while swearing an oath, under magic, to only use it for that. Or, if nothing else, maybe...maybe he would forgive her, after awhile, and this all didn't have to count for nothing.

"Malfoy." He looked up like the world was about to collapse on top of his head, and he had been waiting for it to finally give. "I would like for you to promise me you aren't using it for anything that would hurt things. That you've thought it through, and you know you wouldn't be damaging a _single. Thing_."

"Can you promise me the same?"

She held his eyes for several seconds before dropping hers to the ground, reaching up to push her fingers against her temples. She couldn't. She had been turning it over and over in her mind for the past month, trying to figure out ways to control the plant in the world, and _she couldn't come up with anything_ that was solid. She had been slowly torn up over it, and now she was... "I don't know. No. Maybe."

He tossed the eaten half of his fig, and cleared his throat. "You want to turn people back...their body, to heal them so they don't die."

"Right. Or suffer."

"But you refuse to resurrect."

The tip of her ears dragged up and her heart sunk a little. "It's completely different."

"How? You're turning the body back--"

"But the soul is still there, you're not bringing it back into the body. Who knows what that would cause. It might turn them into zombies. And what if the right soul doesn't come back? You never know what this kind of magic does. Look around - some of this is magic I've never seen or even read about. It's horrible, what could happen. The dead are supposed to rest. What if no one died? We would be upsetting the balance of the world - with life, there _has_ to be death."

"You're disturbing the natural order of things by turning the body back pre-disease as well. What if they don't _stop_ turning back? You'll have a hospital of fetuses and then they'll be dead."

"It would have to be tested extensively."

"On people?"

"Animals, probably. Sadly."

"So couldn't you do the same for resurrection?"

She shook her head. "A human soul is different."

"So is the body."

"Not as different as that. You can't know unless you do it, and what happens if it goes wrong? People would volunteer to try a possible cure for a disease - more so if they are on the brink of death. _Who_ ," she cut off what she knew he was going to say, "will eventually die a normal death of old age. But the person doesn't have a choice in resurrection. They might be better where they are, and we don't have the right to take them away from that. We shouldn't have that power at all - millions of people will be resurrecting their loved ones, with a million possibilities for it to go badly."

"Or wipe out death."

"To create--"

"Overpopulation, higher crime rates--"

"Exactly. And what if they all come back as zombies? Just... The _soul_ can't just come back like that. Then what would happen? You have to kill your loved one to save yourself or them? It's just a horrible idea all around, as hard as it is to let go of things." She shook her head and looked over at him, her fingers hesitant along the peel of her banana. She saw him on the ground again, _Crabbe, Crabbe_ , and practiced delicacy in her head. "Who are you resurrecting?"

"Astherbey."

She did some strange cough-choke in her shock. " _What_?"

"I found Astherbey, you knew that. She told me certain things about how to find the plant, which led me to Orsova. She also knew that the location would be remote, and that there was likely magic protecting it. Hadn't known about the lack of ability to use any, though." He sounded very bitter about it and like he was planning retribution for her lack of foresight. "I swore I would resurrect her in exchange for the information."

"She was..."

"People were after her. She didn't keep it quiet enough."

"And she trusted you?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "She had seen that I would make it to where Floralis was once she told me the information. And she saw my mark."

"That earned trust?" He didn't seem offended by the laughter in her voice.

"To some people. Astherbey wasn't a good person, Granger. She got her hands on a single plant, and she killed to do it."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Since Floralis had never been spread rampant - like it would be if it had ever been easy to obtain and grow - someone had to be controlling it. Or hoarding the only supply. Perhaps the person who put up the magic here on the Islands. Someone had it and she found out who. She was running out, though, so the person must have only had a little on them. Maybe just the tea."

She looked down at her banana, hitting it off her palm. "You shouldn't do it. Not only is she a bad person, but you don't know what it will do. It will end badly, I'm sure of it." And she wasn't going to let it happen.

"I don't plan on resurrecting her, Granger. I never did."

She narrowed her eyes. So he _still_ hadn't told her his reason. She knew, of course, that there must have been something else besides that since he only promised to do it in order to get the plant, but she thought they were _getting_ somewhere. If he told her his uses and something was crazy, it at least gave her the opportunity to talk him out of it. What was the purpose of that? To test how she would react to a bad motive? She quickly ran through her reaction in her mind to see if she had, and by doing so would have prevented him from telling her the real reason.

Astherbey probably hadn't counted on him resurrecting her. If he had never planned on it, then she would have been able to see that it didn't happen. Unless she couldn't see because she would have been dead or something. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you knew about how all these rumors started, and how it all came about."

He shrugged. "I thought about it. If only to get you to shut up all your rambling when you were wondering why."

She glared at him. "I wonder if Astherbey saw the Islands. I know when I tried to see it, there was only--"

He pulled up short. "What?"

"What?" She shook her head at him when he turned his head to look at her.

"When you tried to see?"

"Oh. Yes, I... Doesn't matter." She continued walking as he stared at her. _Ha! Wonder about_ that, _prat_.

**8:10pm**

"What are those?"

"These are the ammunition."

"For?"

"For my penguin. She's coming after yours, Draco. Malfoy," she quickly added his last name, noticing her recent trend of forgetting it. Maybe because she never used it very often when she hardly knew him, and she liked the way it rolled off her tongue. Things were different, and it was a way to mark that difference. He had never said anything about it. "You had better be careful. Start building a trench. Or...I suppose you'll just start running."

"I'm more afraid of dust particles."

"Ironic, since your penguin is going to be a sack of dead skin."

**October 10; 11:17am**

Dra-- Malfoy...jumped down from the tree, holding the binoculars out to her. "There's nothing there."

She stared at him for a very long moment, until his eyebrows and hand dropped and he stared back at her. "What island do you want to go to next?"

**October 11; 2:33pm**

"What do you think we should do when we find Floralis and try to leave? I'm not sure if the barrier will let us." She had been thinking of this, and the possibility of it killing them, for a long time now.

"We can travel back in time. Bring the plant with us." He sounded like he had come to this conclusion for as long as she had been thinking about it, and liked to remind himself of it constantly.

"I don't think it works like that. There wasn't a leaf in my mouth when I went back. Then again, the antique collection." She had almost forgotten about that. It felt like years ago. "But why didn't we travel back with our bags?"

"We might not have had them. You could have lost yours in the sea the first time, and I could have never run into those men. Or they just weren't on us when we went back."

"Right. So we'll go back with the plant in my bag." She could see his shoulders tense, but he didn't say anything. "I don't know if the memory loss was from the plant or something else, so I'll leave a letter to myself explaining it. Maybe go back on the day I found out from work. What day was that?"

He glanced over at her, as if to see if she was really serious about asking him. "I don't know. If you ever told me, I certainly wouldn't have been paying attention."

"Why do I talk to you again?"

"Ruining my life."

"Right."

**4:44pm**

Hermione flinched, reaching up to wiggle her ears. They had blocked up on her for the past minute. They did that to her sometimes when she was climbing or descending a mountain, but the ground was pretty flat. She pinched her nose and pressed her lips together, pushing air up her throat and against her eardrums. Nothing. She wiggled them again, looking up when she saw Draco's hand move and tug on his ear.

_'Are your ears blocked_ _?_ ' was what she was going to say, but she couldn't hear herself. She might have said it - had felt her tongue and lips move, but there hadn't been a hint of sound. Her ears had never blocked up that badly. She couldn't...she inhaled through her nose again, to be sure, but she couldn't smell either.

She stopped walking, her eyes following up the length of a tree like a child looking up at a serial killer. She couldn't hear, she couldn't smell... She ran up to Draco as he stopped walking as well, grabbing his shoulder as she moved around him. He pointed to his ears and she nodded, poking her nose. His eyebrows drew down and she poked her nose again, raising it up to sniff around. She tried to show him something to do with each sense, and he watched her lick her hand to find no taste. She held up two fingers when he started gesturing angrily, not paying attention to her hand motions.

_Senses_ , she mouthed. _Sight, feeling, left. Didn't ingest anything, so as long as something didn't get into blood, it must be an area. We need to get out before we lose other two. If wall, we should--_ He grabbed her arm as he turned, pulling her behind him as he ran in the direction they had been going. She followed, pulling the hunting knife from her bag and marking the trees.

She thought her vision was growing dim, and was halfway through telling herself it might have been the clouds over the sun when it left her completely. She crashed into something that moved with her, and she knew it was Draco before they even hit the ground. Feeling him was the only thing she had. The world was black, silent, without a hint of scent or flavor to the air. Sweat dripped down her face, and she knew her heart was furious by the way her chest was aching.

She rushed to her feet, trying to be sure of the direction they had been going, but it was impossible. Had she stayed straight when her sight was lost? She and Draco had spun a bit when they fell, and had she stood back up to face the right direction? She pushed the heel of her palm into her forehead and went to go straight, waving a hand in front of her for anything in the way, when Draco grabbed her shoulder. He grabbed her shirt in his fist and tugged her towards the right, and she pulled back with a pointless shake of her head. She didn't think right was it. She had thought _maybe_ left, but--

He tugged harder and she pushed her heels back into the ground, pulling him the way she thought it was. He yanked her, her arm hitting his chest and her head knocking into his. He seemed a lot more adamant about his direction than she was hers. He pulled her arm up, his fingers fumbling over her wrist before hitting her palm. He drew a line, and she knew his impatience from the way he suddenly squeezed her arm. _Trus_ \-- he started on her palm, and she needlessly closed her eyes. She shoved him, twisting her hand around to grab his wrist, and his fingers wrapped around hers in turn.

He had better be right. He had better be _so right_. If they lost feeling, they would be screwed. They wouldn't be able to feel their feet under them, to walk, to crawl. They wouldn't know if they _were_ walking or crawling. It would be like a coma, but completely aware of it.

It was the first time she had ever been thankful for the trees they banged off of, knowing she could still feel them. She was also glad that Malfoy was leading - he probably wished he could trust her to run faster so she could take the brunt of thetrees. She thought she ran pretty quickly if she could stay close to him when they ran, even with his length.

With every jolt of her foot against the ground, the doubt over her decision to go his way increased. Any second now, she waited to cross that line out of the magic, or to lose all sensation. She was trapped in a nightmare of dark silence. She could feel her breath choking up in her throat, and fear coursed through her blood until she was shaking with it. What if the Seer, or the vision that wood carver had seen, had been wrong? What if they--

It left her like a flash of light, freezing her inside a picture of stillness. Just as she began to scream inside her head, her mind zeroed down to the only connection she had with the world around her - Draco's hand. The entire rest of her body was floating in nothingness - not even a touch of warmth or coolness to know she was alive outside of her mind. Except for _there_ , in her palm. She knew it was the scar before she even thought about it. There must have been some sort of magic within it - blood magic. More powerful than the kind that surrounded them. Even though the spell had failed, there was a trace of its beginning in their scars.

She could feel Draco's palm leave hers, and then his fingertips against her hand after a moment, pushing too hard for him to have been able to feel it. She couldn't feel her fingers so she knew he must not have been able to either, but she took hope in the fact that she could feel his move on her palm. Their bodies were still listening to the command of their brains. She tried to curl her own fingers, and she might have, reaching out to feel his fingers across her palm. She wiggled her fingers when she thought she might have been on his palm, but she couldn't know. She didn't feel a single thing outside of that small circle.

She pulled her hand away from Draco, reaching down to see if she had fallen. Nothing hard pressed against her palm, so she swung her arm out, finding nothing. She twisted her hand, swinging it again, and felt her palm smack sharply into bark. _Okay, okay. Keep it steady, Hermione. No panicking._

She reached out again, searching for Draco, and found _something_. She ran her palm down fabric and then skin, feeling his arm run down to his wrist. Her fingers must have worked on grabbing it when he went to move it away because it stayed, and she carried down to his palm. She was getting frustrated and had to work to calm herself, moving and angling as he tried to move and angle, and then finally pushed her palm into his. She grabbed his hand, swinging both of them out to where she had felt the bark before, and then moved her hand up a little to hopefully press his palm to the tree. It was like trying to move air while _being_ _air_. She had no idea if she had hit the spot where the tree had been, if she was holding his hand properly, or if she was pushing it the right away. It was one of the most frustrating and annoying things she had ever had to do - to move something she couldn't feel into another object she couldn't feel. Or see. If she had smell and taste, he would be getting well acquainted with her nose and a very intense reunion with her tongue right now.

She pressed her palm down, searching, and felt his skin. She traveled up - smoothness, knuckles, creases, knuckles, nails, and then tree bark. _Good_. His hand was against the tree, so he knew it was there. She was hoping he knew what to do with it as well. She gave him several impatient seconds before she ran her palm down the bark, looking for his hand, but felt that it was gone. She could only hope it meant he had found direction, place, and balance, and started walking instead of falling in front of her.

She pressed her hand into the bark, commanding her left foot forward, her right, her left. She felt her palm start to drag across the bark without moving her arm, and she knew she must have been walking forward. She stopped when her palm was no longer touching anything but a breeze, and swung her hand out. She smacked it into something of Draco's, but it wasn't like he would ever know. She left her hand there, waiting to feel him move, but felt his fingers on her palm first instead. It took them one hundred ninety-three seconds before her hand touched bark, and she wondered if they would die before they ever got out of there.

**October 12; 12:29pm**

She was tired. She didn't know how long they had taken to get out of the magic yesterday, but when everything had come rushing back into her body, she had still felt as if she were blind. Then she had taken off in a somewhat embarrassing hop-leap-twist-run while sucking in air and shaking out her body. She had looked like a fairy on speed, celebrating life. Draco had been caught up enough in his return to all senses to take a good thirty seconds before laughing at her while throwing insults.

She hadn't appreciated it, so she took extra joy in the smack of her palm against his back. The bug fell dead in the space between them as he jumped and spun around. He gave her a dirty look that managed to be accusing and questioning at the same time.

"There was a bug." She bent her fingers and rolled them up and down, in case he didn't get that the bug was creepy with legs by _bug_ alone.

She laughed at the look on his face, and the question in his expression disappeared completely into accusation. "There wasn't a bug."

"There was a bug!"

"You're lying."

"I smacked a bug off, I swear!" She laughed the words out.

She tried to do the creepy finger walk again and he caught her fingers, narrowing his eyes. She put on her serious face, which took a lot of effort when she was trying to hold back laughter at the same time. There was a lot of widening eyes and forced frowning while her nose twitched, but then she got control over herself. Four beats of her heart passed before the look on his face changed into something strange, and tension built up along her bones. Her sight tumbled down his face, and she could swear his head dipped, just a little. She looked up to his eyes, and his flicked to hers before he released her hand, stepping back.

She pulled in a slow, heavy breath as he started to walk away, and she adjusted her bag, smoothed down her shirt. "Fine. Next time I'll let it bite you, or crawl into your ear."

He didn't answer, but he was walking fast enough now that she had to jog to catch up. For a moment, she had thought he was going to kiss her, and for a moment, she had thought she was going to let him. He had used it against her in the hallway, but he had got distracted - so his Recognition of Attraction was not fraudulent. It's not like that had been their only kiss, and he hadn't stopped when it was okay for her to see anything - he hadn't stopped until the stairs creaked. She could still remember the look he gave her when he pulled her head back, could still feel the memory pressure her heart to a faster beat. _Need_ , and then he had kissed her like it too.

He had said it was a mistake when he thought she was referring to him trusting her with that, but she didn't know if he would take the opportunity again if it ever presented itself. He obviously couldn't help himself with this either, though. They were like big bug zappers to the other person - they knew the path led to destruction, but that light just kept _pulling them in_. There were so many reasons why she should have been reminding herself of ignorance and civility, but all she kept picturing was that look on his face.


	28. Part Twenty-Eight

**October 13; 1:12pm**

The ferries weren't running when they got to the nearest village - or they didn't come there. Draco had just muttered the answer angrily before stalking off towards a row of boats along the coast. They had rented one, and when Hermione adamantly demanded that they would be returning it, they paid extra to leave it at the docks on Stromboli. They would visit the three much smaller islands to the right of Salina, so if they weren't the ones they were looking for, at least they would get through them quickly.

Watching him row them out to sea was giving her flashbacks of when they had first come to the Islands. She could never have imagined she would be here over four months later, and that so much could happen in that time. She grabbed the oars to help him row them towards Panarea, and she stared at him instead of their direction, marking the changes she had found and that they created.

"Granger." She looked up from the faint scar on his forearm to find his shoulders shaking. He nodded his head to the side, and though she had been trying to ignore the level of noise in the big boat next to them, his attention to it drew her own.

Her head pulled back at the handful of women at the rails, all with drinks in their hands, as they yelled something at her. One was making several clawing motions at the air and two of them were chanting.

"What...are they saying?" He laughed outright, and she quickly steered the boat away when one looked like she was about to attempt leaping over to her. "Malfoy--"

One of them yelled something loud enough to drown out her voice, and Draco laughed harder. Hermione contemplated hitting him with the oar, or maybe just dumping him overboard. He had stopped rowing, despite her obvious desire to escape the situation, and she managed to turn them in circles twice before he calmed down a little. She ignored the shape of his grin and the light in his eyes with a huff.

"They want to know if you want to go over there."

She looked between him and the women still yelling at her, one twirling her hips around while another leaned a little too far over the railing. "What?"

"I'll go with you, if you want. There's--"

"I'm not going over there. Just because you want to surround yourself with women does not mean I am going to go along for the ride." She scowled at him as his eyebrow came up, but the grin remained. "I'm--"

"Oh, it's not me they're interested in, Granger."

She blinked at him three times, her hands pausing on the turn of the oars. She looked back at the group of women again with wide eyes and quickly shook her head. It only made them grow louder, and she looked back at Draco when he started laughing again, seeming to get more amusement from her expression than whatever they were saying now.

"Well? Tell them I'm not interested! That one at the end is about the jump over here! Do--"

"Are you sure? I believe one of them just pulled out a whip. It could--"

" _Malfoy_!"

He laughed and yelled out something to the women, causing them to fall into silence. Hermione smiled politely and started rowing calmly away from them. The jumper said something back to Draco that had the grin falling from his face, and he shot something back at her. The one with the whip laughed at him and replied, and he was scowling now. She had no idea what he said, but she knew that dark, smooth tone meant it had to be something demeaning and scathing. She started rowing a little faster, in the opposite direction the bigger boat was drifting towards. Several of the women yelled something out at him, and he waited until it was silent before he spoke. She recognized the lift to his eyebrow and the cruel twist of his mouth, and knew it was his end delivery - that whatever he was about to say, he was sure it was going to beat their sense of worth into dust.

She rowed faster, her arms burning as they pulled away from the boat, but Draco just kept raising his voice louder so they would hear it. She didn't want to know what the women had been yelling at her before, but she _really_ wanted to know what got him from amusement to this. Whatever he said set of a hurricane of anger from the women, and he turned to face her, grabbing the oars with a smug look.

"Fill your prat quota for the day?"

His smirk turned less smug and more amused. "If you're lucky."

**3:14pm**

"What is that?"

"Corn!" She grinned at his stoic look, and rolled her eyes at his lack of excitement - she knew a different flavor when she saw it.

**4:38pm**

She thought she spent half their time on Panarea picking corn, olives, and capers rather than walking across the island - it was so small, it hadn't taken them long to see it wasn't the one they needed to be on. If they had passed any magical walls like on the other islands, it must not have been there to extend it at all. Even if the trip had been pointless, it still felt good to have another island out of the way, and not take months lost within it.

She was contemplating this, and making sure they were headed in the right direction towards the boat, when she noticed a lack of noise behind her. They had mostly been crossing hilly areas, valleys, and orchards, so there wasn't as much crunching footsteps. They were in the woods now, though, and she should have been hearing some bushes, or twigs, or boots scraping over roots. She looked back, eyebrows furrowed, and came to an abrupt stop when she didn't see him. She had expected him to be stopped, not _gone_.

Maybe he had gone off to pee or something - they didn't usually announce it, but they almost always gave some sort of _sign_. Extra loud steps, or a cough, or passing the other person before they disappeared, or just saying _break_. She hadn't heard any of that.

"Draco?" She called his name again, louder, but there was no response. "Crap, _crap, crap_."

She pulled the hunting knife from her bag, looking around her. If he had disappeared silently, then it must have been a surprise. Someone had grabbed him, they must have. Or he was in some sort of small area that made him invisible, or he... She gave the ground a suspicious look, remembering when he had almost fallen through an invisible hole. She listened for any sound of movement and then started walking back. He must not have been directly behind her if it was a hole, because she would have fallen through as well, so she criss-crossed to either side of her path. She tapped her foot out, searching as she clutched the knife, and her eyes darted between the ground and the trees.

She found the hole about eight meters back from where she had noticed he was missing, and she felt guilt and fear bubble up in her chest. Something had left a bite or claw mark in the bottom of his boot the first time he had almost fallen through, so if there was something down there...

She dropped her bag next to the hole and started to rush through the trees, chopping down vines. The adrenaline was making her hands tremble, but she ignored it, trying to keep deep, calm breaths as she tied the vines together. He must have had his dagger on him, so if he was quick... She shook her head, her hands fumbling under the speed she was pushing them to move. She tied the start of the vine chain on the nearest, sturdiest branch to the hole, triple knotting it and tugging to make sure it would hold.

She nearly started to hyperventilate when the vine wouldn't go through the hole at first, but it only took her a few seconds to figure out that it would if she was touching it. She had to feed it down, her hands flying along the length of the vines, over and over, as she pushed it in by millimeters each time. She didn't know if the vines would be long enough, if whatever the hole led to would be too deep to get out again, but she had already taken too much time.

She threw her bag behind a tree, wrapping her fingers tightly around the handle of the hunting knife, and jumped. She waved her arms as she dropped through the darkness, trying to keep her feet straight down. In a world of beautiful landings, Hermione's was in exile. She hit the ground on her heels, sending static jolts of pain all the way up her legs, spine, and to the back of her skull. She cried out as she went straight into a fall, crashing onto her back, and her head smacked off the ground.

She was sure stars would have been blooming in front of her eyes if it wasn't an ink pool of darkness around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, pain wrapping tight and stuffy around her brain until even her eyes hurt. She pushed herself up, bringing the hunting knife to her chest, and rocked forward to get off her tender heels. She rubbed the back of her head, looking around her, and quickly moved away from the spot she had made so much noise in.

If Draco was nearby, he should have heard the sound of her landing and known it was her. There was no voice that called out from the black, though, no aristocratic drawl, or arrogant lilt. It was so silent that she could hear the pounds of her heart and her clothing rub together as she moved. A dozen different scenarios took a hard shape in the fuzzy ache of her head, and none of them were ending well.

Fear had her breath coming faster as she started walking forward. She strained her ears for any sound, opening her eyes wide in a horrible attempt for them to magically form night vision abilities. She held the knife at the ready, waiting for any sign of movement or breath, for something to grab her from the abyss. She _needed to hear him breathing_. Even if she didn't hear his voice, even if he didn't move, she needed to hear him breathing. Anything that came after or with that, they could handle.

"Draco?" She clutched the knife harder, knowing she just gave her location away to _anything_. "Malfoy?"

She kept moving forward, kept looking through the darkness even though she wouldn't see something even if it were walking right in front of her. She threw her arm out at the thought, checking to make sure, and took a hard swallow. The sound was just pushing past her eardrums when she finally heard something more than herself, though it was _not_ what she had wanted to hear his voice for. He screamed, no longer than two seconds, but she knew it was him. It echoed out around her, distorting the direction, but she heard it clearest in front of her.

She jumped into a sprint, hardly paying attention to the world around her and what might pop out at her. That first second she had been thankful to know that he was still alive, wherever he was, but it was a _scream_ , which could only mean he was in danger. It had cut off so abruptly, too - just _stopped_ without a fall in level.

Her heart was hammering so hard in her throat that it was closing up the passageway. Her breath was coming as quick as her feet were slamming down on the ground, her heels sending up shots of pain again under the hard bounce of her body. Her swinging arms punched a fist into the wall, and she turned around the bend, flying through the dark. She saw a faint glow up ahead, barely illuminating the curve of the tunnel, but it was enough light to her dark-adjusted eyes.

She held her one arm still, the knife poised at her side, and her feet skidded around the corner. Draco was scrambling back across the ground, and her heart jumped hard at the sight of him _breathing_. His pale, horror-shocked eyes were trained on the figure he was moving away from, and her feet didn't slow until she noticed that the person wasn't moving. She pulled her shoulders back, her speed making her feet take five pounding steps before she could stop herself.

The end of the tunnel was lit by Draco's fallen torch. The body on the ground was nude, bald, and blood was pooling out from underneath it. The face was turned towards her, and she could see the rows of pointed, jagged teeth. Her eyes flashed down to the hands, the claws, and then up to Draco.

His back was pressed against the end of the tunnel, his body shaking, and his eyes unmoving from the body. Draco had killed it, then. The Bill creatures were too human-like not to have some sort of reaction. They looked completely human beyond the claws, teeth, and strange angle of their eyes. She had had conversations with Bill when they were trapped in the clearing, so some of them were clearly intelligent - it might have even spoken to Draco.

It must have felt like killing another person, even if it was in self-defense. She would have found herself the same way if she had had to do it, and if she hadn't been...if she hadn't _known_ the way they truly thought. Their animal instincts and desires, to kill and feed. She might have had the same reaction as Draco even after that. Maybe that was what he was thinking, too - about how it could have been a person who was forced to turn into one. As sad as it would be, it was still no longer human. It still would have taken great joy in killing him first.

"Draco?" she whispered, and his knuckles turned white on his dagger, his eyes flashing to hers.

There was a sort of wild to his look, within the shock of killing and the survival instincts still screaming from the top of his nerves. She approached him as slowly and carefully as she would a wounded, scared animal, and held her palm out. She tossed the hunting knife so it landed next to him, and he flinched at the noise. His breath was stuttering in, and there was blood up his arms and soaking through his clothes.

"It's all right, Draco. It was just an animal. Are you hurt?" He didn't seem to even hear her.

She stopped in front of him, holding her palm out near his face in case he wanted to touch the scar to be sure. She angled herself so she was standing in front of him, blocking out his sight from the body. Her heart tugged and clenched with the look on his face, and she knelt slowly. She turned her hand and reached out, her fingertips gently touching his cheek.

The second his eyes shut and his breath rushed out, she crawled closer, over his lap. She stayed above him on her knees, mindful of the dagger pressed to his thigh, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She had never comforted someone who had killed someone - who had _felt_ like they killed a human being. She didn't know the right way to go about it, but it was instinct that had her pulling him closer. He lifted his blood-covered arms above her shoulders, above their heads, a fist still wrapped around the dagger, and she could feel the tremble in his bones. His forehead hit her shoulder, and the hand on his cheek slid back, into the hair at his nape. The action made him turn his head, pushing his forehead into the side of her neck, and she closed her eyes as his breath shuttered out again.

"It would have killed you first. You did the right thing - the only thing. It wasn't human. No matter what it looked like, what it did, or what it said - it wasn't human. Just an animal. Like the rabbits, and the squirrels. Like the fish. But deadlier."

His elbows came down to rest on her shoulders, and she pulled him tighter, her fingers running through that patch of hair over, over, and over. She whispered comforting things, told him how she would have done the same, how it needed to be done. She waited for tears, or voice-clogged outpourings of hard emotions, but neither came. His shaking gradually began to fade, and she stopped rubbing circles on his shoulder.

Her head bent and turned, her lips finding the side of his head to kiss. She didn't think of the action, just did it, like she would to any of her friends, like she had before. Draco's head cocked back, his forehead moving off her neck. She felt the line of his nose slide against her, and then his lips touched her throat. It was hardly a kiss, the pressure nearly nonexistent. She could hear him swallow tightly before dragging his mouth up her skin, his bottom lip pulling down. She moved her head down when he reached her jaw, tilting forward to kiss him. He kissed her back, their lips chaste and more for comfort than anything it had been before.

She swayed back a little, trying to ignore the pound of her heart that felt perverted within the innocence of the action, but he followed, kissing her once, twice more. He pulled back with a long inhale, and she pulled her arm from his shoulders to reach into his bag. He watched her silently, shock still edging his face, and she pulled out a water bottle and a square of cloth. He reached down to take them from her hands before she could even unscrew the cap, and he looked like he was swallowing back sickness when the plastic slid in the blood on his hand.

He twisted to the side to pour the water over his arms, and she slid her hand out from his hair, getting to her feet. He glanced up at her and she smiled at him, but he had already looked away again. She watched him scrub the blood off his arms, and found her gaze turning towards the creature no matter how much she was trying to ignore it. The face was frozen in viciousness, but... She squinted her eyes to look closer, and saw the glinting wet tracks down its cheeks. It had...cried. Oh, that just made it ten times worse. It screaming in pain as you tried to defend yourself was one thing, but a human-like face _crying_ above yours at the loss of its life was another.

She could see the deep grooves from where the claws had come down, and tried to find why the creature had dirt around its mouth. She found the hole then, the large bite taken out of the ground. Draco must have moved just quick enough, or else he would have had his throat torn out by the looks of it. She could see a tear in the blond's shirt, and she wondered if he had been clawed. If so, she would have the unfortunate duty of tying him up until the transformation ended. She stepped in front of his view of the body before she asked.

"Were you hurt at all? Scratched, bit?" He shook his head, and the fact that he had nothing sarcastic or biting to say just further proved his mental state. "I tied some vines together and put them down the hole, so I'm hoping they reached far enough down for us to climb out. And that they hold us. We might want to go up one at a time."

He cleared his throat but he still didn't speak, just nodded his head as he cleaned off the dagger. She was a little worried, but she thought he would get better once they got out of these tunnels. He stood, throwing things back into his bag, and went to get the torch. She kept angling herself so she was in front of him, between the body, but it was pretty pointless with his height. He kept his eyes on hers when he turned around, though, walking up to hand the hunting knife back to her. She took it with a smile, holding his gaze for a moment before shuffling to the side. She nodded her head towards the exit, and walked alongside him back to the vine.

**October 14; 11:24am**

They had slept along the coast of Panarea, the rock cliff dropping straight into the sea. Draco had remained silent, lost within thoughts, and she thought it was best that they stay put for the night. He had still managed to catch them a fish, so she knew he was working through all of it in his mind and that he wasn't convinced he was a murderer or something.

He was less pale and jumpy today, and the faraway look had been replaced by his typical expressions. He still hadn't spoken to her, but she was giving him a little more time before she started acting like it never happened. She didn't think Draco would ever sit there and tell her his _feelings_ about it, and she knew the action he would appreciate most was complete and utter ignorance towards the event.

She sat on the rocky coast at the edge of a tiny hut village, letting her hair dry in the sun. She watched the soap from Draco's bath appear from behind a rock rising out of the hot spring, resting her chin on her pulled up knees. The breeze salted the caper she was nibbling on, the tide of the sea washing across the tips of her scuffed trainers as their boat rocked beside her. She could see Draco's body gliding towards the beach under the clear blue water, wearing the swimming shorts she had bought him at the shop in Salina. She watched as he emerged near the shore, pushing his hair back - it was longer than when they had first arrived, but the strands near his ears were still short enough to stick straight out.

He walked over to the boat, dropping his bath products inside, the smell of oranges coming to her on the breeze. He grabbed the edge of the boat, and she could see his shoulders and arm bunch with the effort of yanking it fully into the water. He nodded for her to get in, and she threw their bags over the rim, grabbing his boots and clothes before climbing inside. She set the oars up as he pulled himself inside the boat, water running down the wooden floor to her trainers.

"At least it's an island. If we're here for another few weeks, it won't be too cold. We could have ended up stranded in Antarctica."

He hummed, taking the seat across from her, and they started rowing out, glad to leave Panarea behind.

**6:47pm**

They had walked up the steady incline of the rock island of Basiluzzo to find no hint of magic or plant there. She could only imagine the amount of time it would have taken them had they not been looking for one specific thing. The caves and grottoes were abundant, bodies swirling under the water with their scuba gear and off-season travel package deals. She and Draco had navigated the boat around the crags nearby, over the ruins of a Roman dockyard and shipwreck, towards Stromboli.

The sky was a deep grey as they drew closer to the island, the volcano shooting off red, yellow, and orange sparks high into the sky. They showered back down to the tip of the dark and spotted green volcano, and she looked down, down, to the coast. The white houses lined across the shore were tinted green, red seaweed strewn across the black sand of the beach. As the sun began to set more, the sea around them turned a vibrant red, and she wasn't sure if all of it was strangely beautiful or just ominous.

Draco's skin and hair glowed a reddish-yellow in the parts outside of her shadow, and she watched the muscles in his arms, the way his chest expanded with every stroke of the oars. There was a fine layer of sweat along her forehead and the back of her neck, and the top of her arms were burning from rowing so many miles. She paused to swipe her hand across her forehead and fan at her face for a moment. She barely caught the twitch to his lips, but it had definitely been there.

"I'm overheated."

"I can see that."

"You act like you're not sweating."

"I'm not fanning at myself. Accept the heat."

She snorted, grabbing the oars again. "Wait until I get too overheated and explode all over you. When I'm in pieces all around, and under, and over you, I hope it makes you sick, and that you cry."

"Granger, if you're going to explode into pieces under me, I can assure you that I won't be sick or crying."

**7:28pm**

"For the fifth time, _I'm fine_ ," he snapped.

Had she asked five times? She had thought it was only the once before now, but he had just got a very strange look on his face. She had been worried he was having some panicked flashback or something, and had to ask before ignoring that it happened again.

"Fine, God, I was just concerned." He stared at her, and she stared back. "You know, because...um...I want to make sure you're...fit to...uh...oh, _fine_. I'm just concerned because I am, so stop looking at me like that." She pushed on ahead of him. "Look at me like I'm crazy and then--"

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back, and kissed her. Their bodies and heads were turned awkwardly, and he missed half her mouth, but his lips were there, half on hers, in a kiss. He turned and stepped sideways to face her properly, standing in front of her, and his mouth pushed across hers until he was fully there. She let out a puff of air, her stomach clenching up and her heart stuttering, and then she was responding before she could think not to.

His hands grabbed either side of her head as he tilted it back, fully exploring the cavern of her mouth with the swirl of his tongue. His mouth was aggressive, even more so than usual, and she wondered if he was making up for something he had lost back in the tunnel. He took full control over the kiss, angling her head in the positions he wanted it, and pushed her tongue back every time she tried to work her way into his mouth. It left her even more out of control than she normally felt, her head spinning as her senses narrowed down to every point of their contact. She returned his kiss just as desperately, her fingers wrapping into his shirt and pulling him closer.

He grew less demanding, his hands easing up on her head, but the need was still there in the press of his body and thorough exploration of his mouth. He allowed her to dip past the row of his teeth, the tip of his tongue flicking against hers, and his hips bumped into her stomach before pressing tightly against her. She slid her hands up his chest, wrapping her fingers around his shoulders, and he exhaled heavily against her mouth. It seemed to drain the oxygen from him as he tugged twice on her lip and wrenched his head up for air.

He looked at her, his hands sliding down to her cheeks, and her hands released, tightened on his shoulders. She pulled in deep breaths, feeling dizzy, and his thumbs slipped to the corners of her mouth.

"You said you wouldn't do it again." She wished that hadn't been the first thing she said. In fact, she wished she hadn't spoken at all, and had just kissed him again instead.

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "I lied."

He slid his hands from her face and she pulled hers away from him, his body still pressed to hers for a few seconds before he stepped away. "It's getting dark."

He raised an eyebrow, licking his lips, and she wondered if he could taste her like she did him. "Stunning observation."

"Prat," she huffed through the puffs of post-kiss air she was taking in, which made the insult as effective as a towel in the rain.

He smirked, turning to walk westward, and she walked with him, blowing air up into her heated face.

**October 15; 7:04am**

She couldn't help but to keep staring at him, thinking, no matter how nonchalant they had tried to act about it all last night. He usually gave her dirty looks for it or got annoyed or angry, but he ignored her now.

**2:28pm**

She gripped the rails of the ferry, staring back at Stromboli for a moment before looking over at Draco. They would be staying on the ferry until it stopped at Filicudi, and if that wasn't the right one, there was only one more island after. No matter what, they were closing in.

"Two more islands to go. As long as we didn't screw up on Vulcano and Lipari. Too bad we didn't just turn left instead of right. We would have been there, or one away from there, three islands ago."

He sneered at her. "It seemed logical at the time."

She hadn't meant it as _offensive_. She had agreed with his choice at the time, or she would have refused to go that way. "It did. And, you know...Stromboli was nice."

His scowl disappeared as he gave her an assessing look, and she rolled her eyes up, feeling the tip of her ears heat. _Stromboli was nice_? Walking around an active volcano, and running into one of those topsy-turvy vertigo places again, wasn't exactly nice.

He hummed, still staring at her.

**4:02pm**

She took a deep breath, looking at the island in front of her as she stepped off the ferry. This one or the next. For the first time, Floralis felt as if it was in reach. But she knew what would come with that - the moment they were building towards, an inevitable fight with Draco, and the decision she would have to make on her own uncertainties involving the plant. And the use of it, at all. She felt completely unprepared, and she absolutely hated the feeling. She was afraid of what was coming at her, but she would face it anyway, like she always did.

"Don't turn into a pansy on me now, Granger."

She glared at him. He was a lot worse at that whole comfort thing than she was. "So says the one who wants to run away constantly. I'm getting you a pair of trainers for Christmas. _Boxes_ of 'em."

"I'm pleased I'll be receiving a gift in return then. I planned on getting you a hairbrush. And Portkeys to safe locations for every time you feel the need to rush off and save the world. Boxes of them."

"Or I could just come and drag you off with me."

"I would rather shove the hairbrush down my throat. Stick to your hero friends, Granger."

She shrugged, picking imaginary loose thread from her shirt. "It's not like you haven't saved my life. Several times, even."

"Let's keep that between us. I wouldn't want to ruin my image." She laughed at him and he gave her a sour look. "The world is a lot different than a single person. I'll never be that man, Granger. No matter how much someone asks me to be or wants me to be."

She looked up at his serious tone, and he was still, like this was a very important fact that he needed her to understand now. She shook her head, because she had never seen him as that sort of person. "I don't expect you to be."

His eyes flicked across her, searching for something, and she held her breath until he found it. He gave a single, short nod, and they headed from the docks and into the trees.

**October 16; 7:31am**

"You know, when you stretch, and it's a really good stretch. But you don't like to do it where anyone could see because--" She stretched, contorting her body in strange angles, locking bones and muscles. "See, and you look like a big dragon or something, and it kind of hurts but it still feels good. It's just _rawr_ in my head, because I feel like some oddly-shaped animal. But that's a good stretch."

Draco stared at her for seven seconds, and then gave the tree across from them a look that clearly asked why it had the audacity to stick him in this horrible situation with _her_.

**October 17; 1:21pm**

"You wouldn't want to come back as an animal? What, an insect?"

He sighed. "If I had to choose, then...a bird."

"A...bird? Like, an owl?"

"I'm not a messenger, forced to spend my entire life carrying letters."

"What kind of bird then?"

"I don't know. I only just partly decided a bird, I can't know what _kind_."

She hummed, looking up at the sky, though there was no sign of any birds. She smirked. "Maybe a flamingo. A big, pink, pretty flamingo."

He gave her a rude look, tripping over a tree root before he caught himself. "If I could pluck your eyes out, maybe."

She laughed at him. "You really like to fly then. I guess being a bird can be pretty freeing."

"I don't know if animals can be free." She gave him a questioning look, hopping over a fallen tree and skirting around a group of bushes. "Animals don't understand the concept of freedom. Most aren't that intelligent. You put a bird in a cage, and it knows it can't fly out. You put it in the air, and it knows it can. I don't think it truly feels _freedom_ upon release."

"Perhaps. There are some very intelligent animals, though. If you open a door, a dog will bolt out--"

"Yes, it likes to run, and now it can run. A bird likes to fly, and now it can fly. I mean actual freedom, Granger. I'm not talking about captivity, and a recognition of release for five seconds. If you're a bird, and you fly continuously, flying doesn't feel _freeing_. It feels like we do when we walk. It's just normal, average. So when you capture them in a cage, it's oppression. When you let them go, they go back to normal."

"But it's still freedom."

"There are no emotions. True freedom isn't being allowed an action that is normal for you - that's in people, too. A person walks out of prison, and they're happy about it for a week. They eat what they want, walk where they want, and do what they want. Then something happens, or they start to feel a certain way, and that freedom goes away even outside of a cell. As a person, we build our own cages, Granger. Emotions are the core to any freedom. If we're free from the things we don't want to feel, then we are free anywhere - even in a man-made cage."

"So you don't think flying is freeing? As a person? H--"

"No, it is. You forget. You get caught up in the speed, the dives, the turns. In doing something _not_ typical. In going above the possibility of what you can do without help from anything. But it's only ever temporary - eventually you have to land. I don't know if there is a permanent freedom - if there were, it would be typical, and the concept of freedom wouldn't even exist. You break through one cage and build another. It's the eternal human struggle - happiness."

She nodded. "Well, at least we have those moments where we break out of it. People just have to keep trying, and they do, because it's worth it. And, when you're lucky, you have some things and people inside the cage with you that don't make it too bad at all. Sometimes it's still big enough to fly around a little. Even physically! Look at us. These Islands are like a cage. But if we weren't here together, it would have been a lot worse."

He gave her a look of disbelief, and smirked when she rammed her elbow into his chest.

**October 18; 3:21pm**

She jumped at the sudden burn on her hip, the bottle that was half-raised to her face splashing water out on her shirt. Something seared into her shoulder blade before she registered the shifting sunbeams and what it meant. Draco was cursing behind her as she quickly maneuvered her body between three beams of light, her upper body twisted to the side and leaning back. She burned her arm when it flung out on instinct to whirl for balance, and she gritted her teeth through the pain until she was sure she wouldn't fall. Falling would have been a lot worse.

"I--" He cut off at the same time that she heard the flap of wings, and she quickly capped the water bottle before gathering her hair up.

She waited for any sound of sizzling as she tilted her head back, but none came. She wouldn't have noticed anyway, once she spotted the birds over their heads. "No," she muttered, watching them circle before her eyes darted to the shifting sunbeams again.

Heat on her shoulder and knee, and fire on the back of her neck as she held her breath, jumping between the new paths of light. She squeaked, checking to make sure her fingers weren't in _flames_ , and contorted herself into a new position. She shoved the water bottle into her bag, pulling out the hunting knife as the flapping grew louder. They couldn't fight the birds off now. They would be balls of raw-pink, burnt skin, and if they stayed in a beam too long, it would be a lot worse than that.

"Dra--" She finished the last of his name on a yell as the birds dived towards their heads.

Draco was flying past her before she even formulated the most logical plan, and she decided that his was it. She pulled her bag over her head, clamping the opening shut, and took off after him and his trail of swearing. She hissed, her face scrunching up at the burn that flashed across her bare arms, and she could feel the heat through her clothes. Her bag was sizzling sporadically above her head, and she hoped that there wouldn't be any holes. If there weren't birds with claws coming after her, she would take some burnt hair over a useful bag.

She could hear the flapping of their wings behind her, heavy under the sound of their screeching. She wound her way through the trees, the sunbeams following her, and the birds thudding. Her shoulders were tense from the pain in her arms, and the expectation of an attack against her back. She leaped around a big trunk, twisted her shoulders between two Myrtle trees, and flashed into a clearing. The burning stopped, and she brought her bag down, dropping it to the ground. Draco was halfway across the clearing, stopped and facing her, knowing as well as she did that the birds would follow them for--

He lowered his dagger and she turned her head faster than she turned her body, nearly toppling over if her feet hadn't slammed and dug down hard enough to keep her upright. She panted, scanning the trees, but the birds were gone.

**October 20; 8:00am**

"Do you want me to put it on or not?"

"It's hardly my fault that I flinch! It's common reaction to _pain_."

He muttered something, but his fingers were gentle on the back of her shoulder before moving down to her spine. His finger passed under the thin strap of the bikini top that served as a bra every other bath, and she held her breath like she had the first time he did it. His hand was on her hip from the third time she had flinched away, though she didn't know how that was supposed to keep her in place when it was her back that moved. She could feel the scar on his palm and the roughness of the pads at the bottom of his fingers. His thumb was moving back and forth, in comfort or to feel her skin, but she was very concentrated on how it felt.

"We should switch to the herbs, at least for the arms. We're almost out of the ointment."

"Yeah."


	29. Part Twenty-Nine

**October 22; 11:43am**

"I'm not having this argument with you again."

"Fine, but potion--"

"Or that one."

"Ang--"

"Or that."

"We did not already discuss--"

"Or--" He stopped when she threw an olive the back of his head. "Gra--"

She threw another, another, a caper, a grape. She laughed at him when he tried to smack them out of the air. "No wonder Harry always beat you for the Snitch. You Seek with those reflexes?"

She raised her eyebrows, but any rude or annoyed comment she thought was coming was lost in favor of the banana that hit her in the forehead. Her mouth dropped as she looked down at it, between her trainers. "Not at the _face_!"

"If I have poor reflexes, you must be dead." She _humph_ _ed_ , ripping the banana open. "You expect me to catch a grape launched at my shoulder, and you can't--"

He caught the piece of banana she threw at his face, but he had no time for smugness when yellow squelched up through his fingers. She cackled at him, throwing another piece, the fourth sticking to his hair. "Nice ca--"

"Are you out of your mind? Those-- Stop. Gra-- If you throw--"

"Aw, almost, Draco! You're so close to catch--" He dug into his bag, and she dodged the handful of caper berries that came sailing at her. " _And_ poor aim! You played Quidditch, and a bookworm is--"

"Seeker does not involve-- That was my _eye_!"

"Yes!" she joked, but grew a little worried when he was still clutching it. "It didn't hurt you badly, did it?"

He bent over, cursing, and she walked over to him with a guilty expression. "It's _burning_."

She bent towards him, jumping back when he jolted upright, and squished a piece of banana to his forehead before she bounced back. "Like I would fall for that! I've been with a Slytherin twenty-four hours a day for about five months straight!"

He scowled, swiping the banana off his forehead before launching it back at her. It skimmed past her cheek, and she barely had time to whip a grape at him before three olives smacked off her face. "Now who-- You're _purposely_ aiming for the eyes now!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did that hurt? Maybe I'll get you an eye patch. _Perfect_ , really. We can go back and get the little row boat, and you can proclaim yourself _Captain Fish Boy_ , or _Matey Skeletor Feet_. I'll even-"

"Wha-- What the _fuck_ does fish boy--"

"Ow! That was _my_ eye! I--"

He laughed as she coughed, pushing a hand to her throat at whatever was just launched down the passageway. "Tell me that went--"

"Hardly effective! And-ow! Don't you step any closer! You're not supposed to rush off into battle, Mal-- _Stop aiming for my mouth_!"

"When it's dangling open so often, I can-- Ah, fuck! I--"

"I learned some Slytherin tricks, but _you're_ turning into a Gryffindor! You--"

He froze from whatever he was grabbing in his bag as he turned his head towards her. He slowly cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

"Mm-hm. I should have got you a red shirt. Perhaps some gold shorts, and a-- Stop. Stop. _I said not to come any closer!_ "

She jumped back three steps before turning to run, but his arm grabbed her around the waist before she made it six steps. She yelled out as she was spun, her feet leaving the ground for a second. She tried to push against his arm but he dragged her back against him, and an orange slice hovered in front of her face. She yelled out again, whipping her head to the side as the juice squirted onto her cheek.

" _Hardly fair_! That will _burn_ if it--"

"Slytherins don't _play fair_ , Granger, we play to _win_!"

She turned between his arm and body, trying to escape the acidic juice coming anywhere near her poor eyeballs. He pulled her against him even tighter, bringing the fruit around again as she grabbed his hand, and Hermione did the only thing she could. Besides stomping on his feet and punching him in the jaw, which was just slightly too violent for the action - unless it got in her eye, of course.

She came dangerously close to his fingers when she moved her head forward, biting the slice of orange. She raised her eyebrows as she chewed it, looking up to give him a haughty look. The look on his face did not show him for the loser he was, though, and her eyebrows knitted together.

"What?" She _just_ refrained from asking if it was her superior intellect and fast thinking that he was staring at her so intensely for.

His arm loosened on her waist but didn't fall away, and he gave a single shake of his head. "Nothing."

_That_ look she knew, and she glanced down when he offered up the rest of the slice. Her eyes flicked up to his face before she stared down at the little bite, her heart speeding up though he was hardly touching her. She bent her head to take it, blushing, and tasted the banana and grape on the side of his fingers as they skimmed her tongue.

Her hand ghosted down to his wrist, and she could feel him grab the back of her shirt when she lifted her head. His fist flexed in the material as she chewed, drawing her eyes up to his. She blushed deeper at the dark look across his features. She swallowed, licking her lips, and her stomach jumped when he groaned, bending his head.

She met his lips halfway, pushing up on her toes, her arm sliding around his neck. He tasted like bananas, and though she tried to think of why he would, thoughts were lost under the dizzy spinning of his tongue. His lips were soft, a fuller bottom, and she noted it every time. When she had first caught herself months ago thinking of what kissing Draco Malfoy might be like, she had thought it would be all hard angles. Maybe it was from the idea of his personality, but kissing him was only hard when they pressed too roughly, or sharp when he nipped her lip.

Kissing him was like exploring a different side to his personality, or maybe just bringing the ones she knew into fuller perspective. He could be rough, demanding, but sometimes he would gentle, would seek to tease more than he sought to own. In any way, he consumed her. Snogged her until she was breathless, her heart was threatening escape, and she couldn't know the world beyond the places where he touched her. Her thoughts narrowed down to the feel of him, the way he moved, the sound of his breaths. He lit her up inside in a way she hadn't felt before - a way that scared her as much as she delighted in it. She was pretty certain he was making her insane for feeling like this. He must have been doing it on purpose, but if she could stop it, she would have a long time ago. She didn't think he could stop either. The Recognition of Attraction was getting far out of hand, and she blamed her tendency to run headlong into _danger, danger_ for this entire thing.

Bananas and oranges, and then his mouth dragged down to her neck as his hand pushed down to her bum, and he cupped her at the same time that he drew her skin into his mouth. She didn't know she would make a sound until the moan was already pushing its way from her throat, and his teeth bit down as he sucked harder. She blushed at the sound, a deeper color to the flush in her cheeks, and she bent and turned her head.

He moved his head as her lips touched hesitantly against the tension in his neck. She kissed his skin, up, up, and his open mouth pressed to her shoulder. She tried to remember what she read about the points that felt good on the neck, scanning her fuzzy brain, but it didn't seem to want to cooperate with her. She could feel the heat of his breath through her shirt, and he tensed just slightly when her lips reached a spot at the edge of his jaw. She sucked the skin, a quick exhale from her nose as she closed her eyes, feeling his groan vibrate against her lips. He pressed his hand to her bum, pushing her into the rock of his hips, and her eyes opened at the hardness that thrust against her. There was a tightening answer at the bottom of her stomach, and she thought that she might want to stay away from his neck for the time being.

His hand was skimming up her side as she moved her mouth across his cheek. He turned his head to meet her lips, but stopped at the choked laugh she tried to hold back. Sometimes she had the insane urge to laugh in situations where she was unsure and completely out of her element, but it wasn't that this time. Her lips had just passed through the sticky goo of banana on his cheek, and the laugh bubbled up like it didn't _understand_ that the last thing she wanted to do was laugh at the moment.

He pulled back to look at her, the laugh choking out again at the absurdity of her first laugh in this situation. She licked her lips, shaking her head when she met his eyes. "Sorry, I just... You have some banana on your cheek."

"I wonder how that got there." _What_? She didn't know people could talk like that. That raspy hoarseness that somehow had the ability to make that ball at the bottom of her stomach grow tighter. Her breath caught a little at this new voice, and she thought it was completely and unnaturally _unfair_ for a sound to have that ability.

"Self-defense, probably." The words fell in stuttering, sheepish vowels from a voice that was deeper than what she was used to, and she cleared her throat. Twice.

"Sure. If self-defense includes starting the war, continuing assaults past all attempts for communication--"

"There was no attempts for communication! There was whining and fearful complaints."

"Whining? Fearful?"

"Yes, would you like for me to explain what those mean? Or is this a personal rev--" Her mouth dropped when the grape smushed against her temple. "Not fair! You--"

"What? Was that whining? I--" She regretted reaching into her bag when it caused him to snap away from her, and she pulled out a handful of caper berries as he backed away. "Granger--"

"Did you get that grape from my bag? Sneaky little--"

"I wouldn't--"

"Is this your attempt at comm--" She jumped when he jerked forward, pausing. He narrowed his eyes, his eyebrow slow to rise. "What are you thinking right now? There will be no pirate tricks, Captain Fi--"

She yelled as he snapped forward, a hand reaching towards the one holding the berries, and she ran away from him, flinging them over her shoulder. "Now who's running?"

"You're just mad you can't catch me! It's--"

He snorted, and she could hear him yank up his bag as he took off after her.

**October 25; 1:18pm**

Hermione grabbed his arm before he could open the hatch. "What if it's like...Pandora's box."

"Pan--" He shook his head, hand paused at the side of the wood, still leaning down.

"Opening it unleashes great evil onto the world."

He looked at her for three seconds before his eyes darted to the side to look at the door. "I don't think a wooden door in the middle of the Aeolian Islands is going to be--"

"What if it unleashes great evil into _our_ world? Bill creatures could be in there."

That made his hand shoot back as he pulled upright, frowning down at it. She was curious about what was inside, but there wasn't really a _need_ to look. Even if this was the island the map was for, it didn't show any symbols that weren't on a mountain. Draco took a step back, and she heard him following her as she walked away.

**1:39pm**

She dropped one of the peaches in her bag and bit into the other one, humming at the flavor. Draco reached up to pull one from the tree, but paused at the choke she made on the second bite. She coughed the piece out of her throat, staring in surprise at her legs. The nerves had started buzzing, and now they felt stiff - stiff like she had concrete blocks wrapped around them. She spit the peach out in a rather unattractive manner, and cried out when she moved her leg.

It felt like she was picking up a weight twice her size with it, and it _dragged_ and _pulled_ on every muscles, tendon, vein, and nerve ending. She gasped, reaching out for the tree, remembering Draco and having to half-carry, half-drag him out of the orchard-- She cried out as something smacked into the back of her knees, moving her legs, and then she was _up_. Draco's arm tensed against her back as he hoisted her up more, and she bit her lips at the jostling of her legs.

"Down. I can run."

He was hissing a line of curses and insults, and froze on the spot. She nearly flew forward, and she thought he was just going to _drop_ her to let her run on her own, but then he tightened his grip and whipped around. " _Fuck_."

She knew it must have been there then, that he saw that dark figure in the trees. He needed to put her down - she wasn't going to be _carried_ like she was handicapp-- Well, perhaps she _was_ , at the moment, but she-- Hermione screamed as her legs slammed into a tree, and he rushed an apology on his breath. Maybe not. She could do it, but they would definitely be going slower than they were now, even with him carrying her weight. Her legs felt like they were on _fire_.

She whined in her throat, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull herself up a little and take some weight off his arms. She pressed her ear to his, gritting her teeth at the flares of pain that erupted every time her legs moved, and looked behind them. She scanned the ground, the trees, the branches, but she didn't see the hunched, sloping gait, or the long arms. She knew they were _fast_ , though. She turned her head to look to either side of them, searching, searching.

She screamed as her legs hit off another tree, digging her nails into his back, and when he turned to move them away, he only slammed them off another trunk. Tears coated her eyes as she gasped, her mind whirling under the feeling of her legs being clamped with burning hot metal as they slowly impacted themselves to dust. She could feel another sort of burning taking over the inside of her body, coating her soft tissue and underneath her skin. Her vision was starting to get a little foggy as she made several hard blinks, and she felt sweat slide down the back of her neck.

The fever - Draco had got that fever, and she had thought he was going to die. "I don't think...it's coming. Remember...confined theory."

He didn't answer her as she squeezed her eyes shut against the fog, the dizziness, the pain, the heat. His body was moving in breaths so fast that he seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, but he still had enough in him to huff out something about an elephant and not really having robot arms. He shut up when she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, her fingers sliding through the sweat-dampened hair. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, still keeping her eyes shut, trying to take deep, cool breaths to ease the way her body was threatening combustion.

She could feel a layer of sweat coating her skin from the heat inside, and it was _building_. Any second now she would start breathing fire, she would explode, she would melt. Draco breathed something about how she was going to melt his blade, but she couldn't even work up the nervous anger of him holding it against her back with his hand. She tried to lift her head to see if anything was behind him, and the world swung in arcs, spun, sweat running down her face.

She only knew that he stopped running because the pain in her legs decreased. She heard an unfamiliar sound, Draco wheezed something into her hair, and then she fell. Her hands slipped across wet fabric, and she screamed as she landed on her legs. She immediately fell over, hitting the ground on her back, but it was nothing to the way she already felt. She felt like her blood was boiling, like she was about to suffocate within her own heat, and her legs were the worst of all. She saw a bleary line of light and movement, heard a sound, and then it was dark.

She thought she had blacked out for a moment, until she felt Draco grab her shoulders and yank her, dragging her across ground. "Wha-- Whe--"

It took her several seconds to know that his hard exhale was a shut up. She couldn't tell where he was in the dark from the absolute confusion within the spinning of her mind and senses, but she knew the moment his fingers touched the button of her jeans. She made a gurgling sound of protest which he didn't pay attention to, hissing something about fever and soaking wet. She felt his fingers push under the fabric at her hips, under the waist of her knickers, before pulling out to just catch her jeans. He wiggled and yanked her pants down, and she couldn't even move. The fire inside was like a monster of heat lying on top of her.

She felt him yank her shoes off and pull her jeans from her ankles, and she tried very hard to move and push his hands away when they grabbed the bottom of her shirt. He said something about not seeing, and she remembered that it was dark, distantly wondering how she could have forgotten. She didn't even know she had moved until her forehead hit his chest, and she could feel the rapid pulse of his heart and realized that hers was slow. Too slow, as he pulled her shirt over her head, his hand ice cold to the inferno of her skin at her back. He was halfway through a word when the heat flared and she was lost.

**October 26; 2:02am**

Hermione blinked her eyes open, sucking in a breath. It was blackness around her, her mouth tasted rancid, and all she could smell was sweat. Her body was cool, slick with coldness, and though her legs were aching and a little stiff, there was no pain. She was completely confused on where she was, and the memories started seeping back into her mind. The peach, the figure, running, dark, Draco taking her clothes off while she thought she was five seconds away from death.

"You up?" His voice sounded rough and drained. "Yeah," she cracked. "Where--"

"In the hatch. It's dark out now."

She heard his clothing rustle and the pop of a plastic bottle. She reached up for the cloth on her forehead, and took the water bottle when he pressed it to her arm. She had to stop herself from chugging all of it, knowing that they were probably very low on water now, like they had been when he went through the fever. It took her sitting up to remember that she was only in her underwear, and she blushed, glancing over at the darkness in his direction.

He must have seen her - probably turned on the torch to find the water and cloths in their bags. He must have touched her, as well. She could remember having to constantly wipe him down when he went through it, so he must have felt...quite a bit. She reached down to straighten out her bra, feeling exposed even in their lack of sight. Not that it mattered much - he had seen and felt most of her last night, and the rest wasn't too hard to guess at. She felt shy, and she couldn't help but wonder if he would be kissing her with that same sort of aggressive need now that he knew what it was all about.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Yeah."

"For carrying me, too. Though, I could--"

"I'm not sure if my arms will ever recover."

She rolled her eyes in his direction, knowing by his voice that he couldn't be more than a meter from her. "It's not my fault you're weak."

" _Weak_? You run a mile while carrying someone - doesn't matter if they seem light in the beginning, by the time you finish, they're as heavy as a half-giant."

She went to play with the hem of her shirt, but only felt the skin of her stomach. "You didn't have to." He was silent. "Well, thank you. Again."

She reached out to hand the water bottle back to him, and realized his closeness when she only put her arm out halfway before touching him. "You should drink the rest. We have two more. I'm pretty sure I heard water when you ate the peach."

She nodded, bringing the bottle back to her. She had thought she heard it too, distantly - probably another mile, and two now. She chugged the rest of the water as soon as the rim touched her lips. She felt completely dehydrated, and she was starving as well. Her mouth watered at the thought of fish, but she would settle for capers and be pleased about it now.

"Where's my bag?" She wished she hadn't asked, since three seconds later, the hatch flooded with light. She twisted her body away from him, looking at him with wide eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, taking a deep breath as he diverted his eyes. His murmur confirmed her thoughts that he had already seen what she looked like in a bra and knickers, _twice_ , which made her remember the shared bath, but... Well, it was a bit different when she was in a blackout fever. She tried to tell herself that it really didn't matter now, that he had seen her quite thoroughly. He might have even purposely looked his fill, and before she could get angry at the idea, she reminded herself that she had when their roles were reversed. At least she hadn't been starkers. _Like a bathing suit, Hermione, it's not a big deal_. But it was, sort of, a big deal, when she was wondering, sort of, how he might have felt about what he had seen.

She found her bag behind her, and she turned her back to him as she grabbed it, part of her curious to know if he was looking again. If he _wanted_ to, still. He waited until she had pulled her bag around and pulled out some fruit before he switched off the torch. She munched down in blissful unawareness to anything but _food_ for almost a minute.

"All of this mess for a plant," she muttered.

"All of this mess to help other people."

She pulled her knees up, swallowing a caper, and wondered where her clothes were. She didn't know how much time had passed, so her jeans might still be wet, but she had her old shirt in her bag. She could always use the sheet for now.

"I have a confession." He was very silent, and she looked down into the darkness of her palm, twirling a grape between her fingers. "I can't really keep getting angry at you for not telling me your reasons, when I've... I'm not sure yet, but...I don't think I'll be using the plant."

"I know."

Her shoulders jumped in her surprise, and she stared into the place his voice had come from. "What do you mean, you know?"

"It was only a matter of time before you realized what sort of things could happen if you bring that type of power into society. The lengths people would go, the lengths they have. All your talk about time and tide. You want to help people, but you're not going to destroy the world to do it. As ridiculous as I tend to find you, you've been stuck between two different kinds of saving."

She bit her lip, squishing an olive between her fingers. "It's so dangerous. I don't think it can be controlled. One bad person, _one single mistake_ , and..."

She could hear him moving for a second, and then the hardness of his exhale. "My reasons have changed as well."

Her eyes widened, and the olive was massacred between her fingers. "Completely? You... So what do you want it for now?"

She couldn't help but ask. She was surprised he had even offered up as much as he had, and she thought that maybe he would keep going. Maybe it was the dark around them, the hidden faces, the way they were sort of lost in the space between them. Perhaps her own confession triggered his, and they could be honest with one another now.

"I don't know," he finally answered, and it sounded like it took a lot, like it hurt to admit it. There was some sort of guilt there, but she didn't think it was for her.

She examined the dark like she would his face, pushing the broken olive into her mouth. She chewed, thinking, and took a long, slow breath. "Then why are you still here?"

He huffed a laugh, like it wasn't really funny, and he was a little bitter and something else. Like when your dog gets run over, and two weeks later, someone makes a joke about running over dogs. Or when someone you love killed themselves, and a month later, someone says something like, _I'm going to shoot myself if I don't get this paper in on time_ , and it's not funny at all, you're angry, and you don't know how it's even possible that it became a phrase. That someone could say something so easily like that.

"I'm sure I'll think of some uses for it once I have it."

"Like a backup for any possible situation, ever."

"Exactly that."

"And you haven't come this far to walk away now. As long as you have Floralis, there is bound to be a hundred different situations you could use it in."

"You might be starting to know me, Granger. I'm not sure if I like it."

She grinned. "I'm not sure if I don't," she admitted, and she felt stupid and awkward after she did, so she rushed out, "I have to pee. Very badly. Desperately holding it started ten minutes ago." Which might have been more awkward than her half-arsed confession, but both were true.

"There's a dead person in here."

She coughed on a caper, which tasted bad enough to her that she certainly didn't want a revisit to her tastebuds. " _What_?"

"It's a skeleton. It's over by the door."

He switched on the torch, and she yanked the sheet out of her bag, following his eyes to what was definitely a skeleton. "It has no clothes."

"I know."

"Do you think it was...like Bill?" She remembered the one that had been nude in the tunnels, and then she remembered her horrifying experience of being one. "They die quickly. They can't go more than two or three days without eating."

"Good." She nodded at his statement, tying the sheet tightly, and stood in a hunch to avoid banging her head off the ground ceiling.

"I'm going to-- You're coming?"

"I've been trapped in here with a skeleton and a woman close to dying for at least ten hours. I need air."

_Close to dying_. She wondered if he felt the hopelessness that she had the first time, or if he knew it had to end somewhere, as long as he kept her cool. She thought of him freaking out over the fire-hot convulsing mess of her and shook her head. A year ago she would have never thought he had it in him - to care for another person who was forced to rely on him like that. Even after everything, it still took her back to think about it.

"All right. You know, we're probably out of the area that that thing would--"

"If we go off your theory, and it's still only a maybe." He grabbed the dagger from the ground and nodded his head for her to go first.

"I'll stay up so you can sleep after." She grabbed her bag, carefully stepping around the bones.

"That's good. My arms need some healing sleep." She kicked a foot back but missed him.

**October 27; 7:38am**

"Still no sign?" He shook his head to her question, pushing the binoculars into his bag. "I think we should follow the river as far west as it goes, and then we'll check again."

"Hurry up with the fish, Granger. I'm fucking starved."

"Do you have to curse so much? Is there really a reason to add--"

" _Fucking_. I like the word _fuck_ , Granger. I also happen to like the words--"

"It's not like I can just speed up the flames, either. Another minute, I think." "Don't burn them again."

"Do you want to cook them?" she snapped.

"I'd rather not tread too closely to the air of bitchiness around you."

"That does make it worse."

**October 28; 3:09pm**

"Granger?"

"Hm?"

"What are our penguins doing?" He sounded like he was coming upon a startling revelation.

"She's strangling him." She sniffed, looking over at their penguins before noticing why he sounded like that. He raised an eyebrow and she glared. "Very violently, and viciously, strangling him. Until he's dead. A dead penguin. And then she's--"

"Is she a necro--"

"Don't. Even. Say it."

**October 30; 6:59pm**

She looked up from the fire pit she was building when Draco emerged through the trees, wet from his bath and wearing the swimming shorts. There was a lock of hair sticking straight up from the start of his hairline, and he must have shaved, a little nick on his hair-free jaw. He looked like she might want to smile at him before she snogged him, and she wondered if she had that option.

Could she just kiss him whenever she felt like it? She remembered her theory in the kitchen at the vineyard - about getting it out of her system. Making it so normal that it didn't appeal to her anymore. Sort of like...like what he said, about how flying wasn't freeing to birds. Sort of like that. She wondered if she had to let it build up again until they snapped, or until there was a situation where it just _happened_. This was premeditation. This was most definitely _planning_. Deciding, walking up, and doing it because she wanted to.

She tried to look nonchalant as she walked over to where he was staring into his bag. He shook it in his hand, moving things around as he looked for something, but that little lock of hair stayed straight in the air. She hadn't decided if she was going to kiss him, because if just walking over felt this _awkward_ , then the kiss would be worse. She felt a little clumsy and nervous, and maybe she would just push that strand back before asking him...something. She didn't know if she was _allowed_ to do this, if they had reached the point where she could just walk up, kiss him, and then go about her business.

She was a little scared about what his reaction would be. She didn't know if he would kiss her back, give her some weird look, or if the night in the hatch had put him off. She couldn't know until she did it, but it was that fear that had her deciding to. Hermione never liked to live very long with fear inside her chest - not if there was something she could do to stop it. She could kiss him or not, but she would rather see if she could than be stuck wondering because she was _afraid_.

Her fingers touched his clean-shaven cheek, and he just turned his head a few millimeters when her lips were on his. He inhaled through his nose, and she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth once, twice. She felt shaky and unsure, and she was about to pull away to check his expression when she felt his lips press back against hers. Two, four heartbeats and half her theory went to hell - it really didn't matter if they didn't let it build up, because they were kissing as desperately as when they did.

It was like it was already built inside of them, this giant, hard mass of everything kissing him brought out in her, and all the reasons why she did, why she couldn't help herself. It grew and reshaped to the form of her insides, and it didn't _matter_ if she tried to stop it, or waited a month or a day, because it just _wasn't going away_. Her heart was thudding just as hard, her stomach was still rolling, and her mind was just as simplified to basic action as it had been before: the softness of his lips, his taste, the heat, the slide of his tongue, the way he breathed.

She could hear his bag drop from his hand, the clothes he just washed followed directly after, and then his arms were around her. She grabbed his shoulders, moving her arms out of the way when he pulled her forward, and she breathed out harshly at the feel of him pressed so tightly against her. His hand tracked up her side before he found the opening in the sheet, and then his hand was on her ribs. She slid her hands over his shoulders, down his back, feeling the scar across his shoulder blade.

He glided across the ridges of her teeth, pressed into the soft inside of her cheek, and swirled across her tastebuds. She could taste the mint of his toothpaste, smell the oranges of his shampoo, and the fresh clean of soap. His thumb was making circles on her skin, and he was definitely moving his hand very slowly in an upward slide towards her breasts. Her nails bit into his skin, her tongue rubbed across his, and her back hit a tree. She hadn't even really been aware of moving, but it was definitely bark pressing into her back.

She might have bitten his lip a little too hard from the impact, but he didn't seem to notice, kissing her harder as his hips pressed tighter. Her blood was a rushing, angry beast inside her veins, and it might have been a good thing that she was caught between the tree and his body with the lightness of her head. His thumb was making passes directly beneath her breast, and she distantly thought to protest or move, but she still moaned when he lifted the weight of it in his palm. A shock went through her body, and then his leg was between hers, pressing, _pushing_ , and her head fell back against the tree.

He immediately dropped to her shoulder, his tongue swirling in open-mouthed kisses as he worked his way to her neck. Her body was alive and shaking with sensory overload, and when he bit that spot at the start of her shoulder, her hips grew a mind of their own. They jerked out, rubbing herself on his thigh, and her heart jumped at the sound formed with the blending of their moans. His thumb drew circles around her nipple, and that hardness at her hip started to grind against her.

"Oh, God," she breathed, panted, and she thrust against him again when he timed the squeezing of his hand to the sucking of his mouth.

He sought her lips at the sound of her voice, and she dropped her head to kiss him, sliding her hands down his chest. There was a part of her that was screaming for her to stop this ten minutes ago, but it _felt so good_. She was losing herself in a well of sensation, spinning in the hurricane he created inside of her, and she didn't even know if she _could_ control it, let alone if she wanted to. Her fingers pulled over his nipples, and he rocked so hard into her that the bark turned painful against her back. His leg pressed forward at the same time, rubbing against her, and she rocked back, their noises lost in the other's mouth.

It wasn't until his hand started dipping, sliding down her stomach, that reality started crashing like waves into her mind. She pulled her head back, gasping for breath, and grabbed his hand as it reached her bellybutton. The action stopped all movement, and he panted against her cheek, his other hand flexing a little too hard into her hip. _Oh,_ _God_ , this was _not_ what she had been planning when she thought to go up and kiss him. She had been thinking of something short, limited touching, a _test to theory_.

Her heart must have been tearing through important things at the moment. She was going to blame him for that, absolutely, completely. It would be in all the papers. Hermione Granger: Death by Kiss with the line under, _And no! It wasn't a Dementor!_ She would-- _Okay, calm down. Hysterical thoughts, Hermione, you're having hysterical thoughts._

She refused to lose her virginity against a tree. She wasn't really _holding onto it_ , or felt any sort of _special attachment_. She didn't need candles, roses, gifts, and soft music. But she could not look back and remember losing her virginity _against a tree_. Draco, on the other hand, did not seem to care _at all_ about where he happened to lose his. Though, if she thought about herself thirty seconds ago, she didn't seem to care all that much then either.

_God_ , was he even a virgin? He seemed to know a little too much about how to make her lose all sense of herself just by touching her breast and shoving a leg between her thighs. He had to be, though. He hadn't seemed too pleased when he had let it slip, and if he hadn't, he would have let her carry on thinking he had done this a hundred times before. He might have been a virgin, but this certainly wasn't his first time with a female body open to him.

He pulled his head back to look at her, and her face flamed. He was a rock against her hip, she was still pressed firmly to his thigh, and she had most definitely just lost all sense of decency before. His lips were rubbed red, brighter than the flush on his cheeks, and his eyes were hooded. She wondered how close he had been. She wondered if he could feel the fire in her on his leg, and the way stopping had made her hands tremble against him. She wondered if he could tell that he might just be giving her the sexiest face she had ever seen, and it wasn't helping the situation.

"I...the tree." The tree. The tree? That was all she had for an explanation? Why was her brain failing her? Had her body just overrode everything she ever knew of _intelligence_?

He licked his lips, looking at the trunk above her head. His eyes flashed back to hers, and she knew he was thinking by the little wrinkle at the bridge of his nose. She dropped her hand from his chest, and that seemed to be the answer to his thoughts. She almost didn't catch the curse under his breath, and he rubbed against her as he stepped back. She turned a brighter shade of red at the whine in her throat, immediately clearing it to cover it up, but she knew he caught it by the way he was looking at her.

"Sorry, I..." _Words, Hermione, words. Remember those?_

"All right."

She released his hand and it fell from her stomach. She could hear him swallow in the silence, and he half turned from her, opened his mouth, and then walked away. She took a deep breath as she heard him disappear into the trees, and her head fell back against the trunk.

**October 31; 7:05am**

He hadn't spoken to her since he came back last night. She had been uncomfortable and embarrassed, and then her anger had started working up. It had taken her until she had lain down to sleep to think that she hadn't made an effort to talk to him either. It might have even been _normal_. The binoculars had been placed on top of her bag when she got back from filling up a water bottle, and he had been carving at a piece of wood. It was a normal night for them, except for the tension, so she really shouldn't have been _angry_.

She just felt vulnerable - the intimacy they had experienced yesterday, coupled with how _close_ they had been. He had obviously not found anything wrong with her body in the hatch, or when he had her pressed against a tree, but that sort of act wasn't something she was used to. She felt shy and exposed, and she couldn't stop remembering it. If her thoughts at the vineyard had been...graphic, she didn't even know how to describe the dream she had last night. He was even creeping into her sleep, which officially meant she was overdosing on the Oh Blond One.

There was nothing _stable_ between her and Draco. It had felt like stability because he was always there, they were constantly together. But if that whole thing had started yesterday by her testing to see if she could just walk up and kiss him when she felt like it, that wasn't exactly a stable relationship. She didn't have a name for what they were - she didn't know if she could even _call_ it something - but there she had been, completely out of her mind with him.

She felt better knowing he was a virgin as well. There was more comfort in knowing that the closer they got to... _that_ , the less he knew as well. She wasn't going to be just a notch on his bedpost - she would be the first one, if it ever came to that, and the thought made her laugh a bit at the absurdity. He would never be able to hold it against her, no matter what happened after they left the Islands. She didn't think he would blow her mind either - she knew the statistics, and they didn't look that good for men who _weren't_ experiencing it for the first time. So if she fumbled, if her book knowledge left her like it was prone to do the moment his mouth came near her, then she wouldn't make a _total_ fool of herself.

This thing between them was inescapable, and she so easily lost herself within it. But she didn't know if she wanted to take it that far with him. She didn't even know if he would still be talking to her once they left, or how the end would play out. And maybe there was a part of her that might not have needed the candles, but she had always thought she would lose her virginity to someone she was head-over-heels in an actual relationship with. Like Ron - after she started taking birth control, and before everything went bad.

She didn't know what would happen between her and Draco at all, but she kept weighing options in her head, because she always liked to be prepared. She just didn't know if she _could_ be for something like that. She certainly hadn't been _prepared_ for yesterday, or she might have been able to hold onto herself a little more. It was confusing and maddening, and she was blaming her headache and constant memory-replay completely on him.

"Do you want some of this?" She didn't look at him when she asked, and she was waiting for silence.

He grunted, and she had just enough time to wonder if he was really angry with her for stopping and to get angry herself at the idea, when he answered. "What is it? If you made that fig, caper, grape shit--"

"Pears and bananas. It's the last of the bananas, actually."

They hadn't found any good ones in over a week. The Islands weren't getting very cold, but it wasn't the drenching heat they felt over the summer. The fruit was running low or spoiling on the plants and trees, and if they were here for much longer, they would have to be on permanent rabbit meat. She would have preferred the capers.

"Sure."

**November 1; 3:32pm**

Draco jumped down from the tree in front of her, and she held his bag out to him. "Well?"

He looked down as he took it, pushing the binoculars inside. "This is it."

She temporarily forgot that this meant they were rushing to possible doom, and hopped around in a circle in her happiness. _They were here_. After all these months, they were finally _almost_ to the plant, and then she could never even think of these Islands or their murderous magic again. She stopped her hopping but the slightly deranged grin lasted long enough to be aimed at Draco's stoic face. He smirked at the sight of it, snorting, and then followed her as she continued west.

**November 3; 4:35pm**

Hermione's heart leaped at the sight of Harry and Ron, and then dropped to her stomach when she saw the blood coating their skin. They were crawling, Bill crowing in victory as he stalked towards them. She was halfway there, Draco rushing past her, when she grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him back. The fabric tore, and he was on his feet as quickly as he had fallen on his back.

"No, Draco, it's a trick!" He dragged her two steps as she latched on to him. "Ron had to throw that shirt out a year ago, ripped it in--"

"Who, what?" he rushed, stopping, and she darted around him. His face was as pale as she imagined hers to be, and she pushed her palms into his chest, bringing him back a step.

"Harry and Ron. It's--" His eyes flashed above her head. "Well, you probably don't see them, do you? I don't think you would be sprinting towards them, to... I don't know what's over there, but I can guarantee you it's a trap. Ron threw out that shirt, _finally_ , and I see something different than you do. It's not real."

He looked for one more second before quickly turning his back, like he couldn't even stomach the sight of it for a moment more. She knew how it felt, not wanting to look back again at the nightmare the magic had created. Real or not, seeing Harry and Ron like that was enough to make her chest hurt. She looked anyway, making sure it wasn't an _actual_ creature, like how Bill had turned into Draco. They still looked like they were crawling, but they hadn't moved at all. Whatever it was, it wanted them closer, and it couldn't get any nearer to them.

She walked after Draco's departing back, rubbing the nausea in her stomach. The fear and adrenaline faded gradually, and she told herself that they would have to be a lot more careful now. Somehow the magic had gotten into their heads, and it wasn't safe to trust anything around them - if it ever was, at all.


	30. Part Thirty

**9:24pm**

He still wasn't sleeping. The image of Harry and Ron like that was haunting the darkness behind her eyeballs too, but she knew it was a lie. Draco hadn't even bothered putting the fire out or lying down yet. Maybe he saw his parents, however he might have seen them, and it brought back the worst of what he had been fearing for the two years before and during the war. Maybe it was some type of bad memory.

He looked pensive and lost, and the dagger turned over and over again in his hand. He looked like he really needed a hug, and while Hermione had never been one to refuse, she really didn't think he would appreciate one at the moment. The only time he had let his guard down long enough to accept any of her comfort was when he felt like he killed a person. If she tried to do that now, he would probably push her away and roll his eyes. Maybe get angry at her for always trying to help people, even when they didn't need or ask for it. It would be a revisit to their house-elf argument.

"What's that constellation right there? Do you know?" She had been curious about it since she had lain down. She liked the layout of the stars.

He glanced at her before rolling his eyes up to the sky, and she was glad it brought him out of whatever dark paths his mind was traveling down. "Which one?"

"That one." She pointed.

He looked at her finger, up at the sky, and then gave her a frustrated look. He sighed in aggravation as he got up, walking over to her, and squatted down beside her. She pointed again and he looked up. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, followed the line of his jaw, and then lifted her eyes back to the sky.

"I don't know."

"I thought you took Astronomy for almost all of Hogwarts?" "I never learned that shi--"

"You're as bad as Harry and--"

"I will not hesitate to set your penguin on fire."

She rolled her eyes, looking back at the sky. "I always found the stories interesting, but I never really studied them."

He hummed, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye when she heard him sit down next to her. "Do you see that star? Right there?"

"The one in the middle?" "Complete whore."

She laughed. "A whore?"

"Shagged every person she saw. Ended up with eleven different diseases, and was killed by her husband - that one - before he threw a house-elf out the window." She gasped at his fake story as he lay down next to her, and he nodded. "Some of these are scary, Granger. Are you sure you can handle them before bed?"

"I think I'll be just fine, Malfoy. Don't scare yourself, though. I wouldn't want you--"

"That one, there, Hermiona Grange, was--"

"Terribly clever name alteration."

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Does it involve horrifying things happening to Draca Malfe?"

"Of course. He met Hermiona Grange."

She laughed and elbowed him as he smirked, his shoulder settling against hers. He was pointing out all the stars that made up Hermiona's hair when she fell asleep against his warmth.

**November 5; 2:19pm**

She stood with trepidation down to the marrow of her bones for two different reasons. The first, and obvious, was the set of stairs that stood before her. She couldn't even call them something as little as a set. They were a _mountain_ of stairs. She had counted up to three hundred before she stopped, and she hadn't even been a quarter of the way through. They were _killer_ stairs.

The second reason was that they were currently standing just in front of one of the symbols on the map. Whatever these stairs happened to lead to was what that symbol was there to represent. All her anxiety about being unprepared was currently storming together into a level of panic that was pushing her close to hyperventilation.

What if it happened here? She couldn't even know the first word of the spell. She couldn't even know how to begin to save them.

"Just make sure you don't trip, Granger. I'd rather not drag your broken body back to a village."

"Speaking of broken bodies." She shot him a warning look that was met with an uncaring lift to his eyebrow, and she watched him start up the stairs.

She took a deep breath, adjusted her bag, and followed him up.

**5:13pm**

Draco collapsed into a sitting position in front of her. She had been pushing herself past the brink for almost an hour, telling herself about how amazing her smug look will be aimed at his bitter expression for when he dropped first. It was just beginning to curl her lips as she sat down, when it was defeated by her wincing. She took several seconds of rest for the burning, cramping, numbing sensation in her calves to fade.

She turned her head to give him the smug look, his scowl already in place, but he ruined it. "I still climbed higher."

"What?"

"Seven steps. I'm seven steps past how far you got." She huffed and snorted at the same time, which made her sound like a horse, and she turned to crawl up _eight_ steps, when he ruined her victory again. "Too late. You already sat down."

She glared, turning away before she could give him the satisfaction of her seeing the smug look that was forming on his face. "You were planning that, weren't you?"

"You'll always be a Gryffindor to me."

"I'm swearing revenge."

He snorted. "I'll watch out for any flying capers."

"How do you know I haven't just let you trick me the _few times_ you've managed to do it, letting you put your guard down, as I build up to something more devastating that you'll never expect?"

"And you just told me your plan, because..." "You won't believe it."  
"You're right."

**8:12pm**

"I'm not sure if we should go in until it's light out."

"Not much of a difference between going in or sleeping outside," she told him, leaning against the Myrtle tree at the side of the rock path.

She shook each leg one more time, pulling the hunting knife from her bag, and had to gain momentum before she stopped limping. There was no door on the rectangular house in front of them, but it was different than any other they had encountered on the Islands. It was built too well, the flat roof shingled, and there were curtains hanging in front of glass windows. Someone had gone through a lot of effort to bring supplies to the top of a mountain, or it had been built when Apparition was possible.

Draco swung the torch light inside when they reached the entrance, and she couldn't hear anything scurry away from it. The room it entered into was large with white painted walls and ceiling, and dead leaves on the paved floor. The windows at the end of the room were open, judging by the curtains blowing out in the wind. The only thing in the room was a long, wooden table.

They stepped through the doorway at the same time. She held her breath, but nothing happened. They found a kitchen with a fireplace, a few plates, and a single cup. There were no bathrooms, and there was a small, empty room off one of the bedrooms - the only bedroom that didn't have a bed. A few knick-knacks were scattered through the house, including a piano music box and a bishop chess piece.

What Hermione was _most_ interested in was the books. It went beyond her usual love for them - she needed knowledge about this house, these Islands, the reason this was on the map, and the spell. She didn't know if she would find a single answer in the books, but it was the only possibility of help she could see in the place.

"I don't know what we're supposed to find here, or why everything is so..."

"Clean," Draco murmured.

It was _too_ clean. Beyond the leaves in a few of the rooms, there was nothing dirty about the place that she could see. Even all the dressings on the bed were clean, stark white like the rest of the house. The only color inside was from a few of the knick-knacks and the books lining the shelves in one of the bedrooms.

"I think we should go through the books. There must be something important here, or there _was_. Maybe they will give us a clue. It was a book that led us here, to the Islands, in the--"

"Okay," he snapped. He was always so grouchy when he was tired. He really needed to get past that if they were going to go through all those books in a timely manner. "Don't. You can't read in the dark."

"We have the--"

"And you said the batteries die, which is what makes it work...?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed at the frustration in her forehead. "Fine. I'll go to sleep now, be fully rested at sun-- Where are you going?"

His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes flashed to the bed before meeting hers again. "You wanted me to stay in here?"

She felt her cheeks heat up, and stepped back out of the torchlight, but he only moved it to follow her. If he was thinking what had just popped into her head, then he was going to be disappointed again. She might be bold enough to kiss him, but if she ever decided to do _that_ , she wasn't going to just ask him where he thought he was spending the night.

"I just...don't know if sleeping away from one another is a good idea. We're in a strange environment, there could be dormant or even active magic, and if this place is connected to everything then--"

"I'm not sleeping on the floor when there's a bed over there."

"We'll move a mattress in here. I can sleep on the mattress, if you want. I-"

"Fine."

**November 6: 10:11am**

"I wonder what happened here, who lived here. They must have been magical, since some of these books are about spells. Maybe it was the person Astherbey killed. They must have been settled here, though it looks like most of their things are gone. Moved, maybe, or--"

"Less talking, more reading, Granger." He dropped another book on the mattress, picking up the next one and flipping it open. There were a few in languages neither of them knew, but not too many were excluded. She hoped those didn't happen to be the ones they needed.

"Aren't you wondering why everything is so clean? No one stormed in here last night, or attacked us in our sleep, and it looks abandoned. If it was the person that was killed, it would be dirty, too - they died months ago."

"It's a spell."

"Probably, yes. There isn't a chip or stain in the place. No water or sun damage--"

"I thought you were the one insisting that there was something important in the books? No wonder you always sat alone in the library. It wasn't because the other Gryffindors were stupid, but because you--"

"This has to be it. It has to be here somewhere - the spell we use. I don't know how else we, or one of us, could have found it. Probably you, actually...since you were the one with the map."

"Do you think I stayed here and read _books_?"

"Oh. True." He looked like he didn't know if he should be offended by her agreement. "Either way, I have a good feeling about this. Maybe even a past-future feeling, you know."

"I have a feeling, too, Granger," he drawled. "It--" "Okay, all right. Reading."

**November 7; 7:23am**

"--feet get any closer to my face--" She groaned, cutting off the rest of what he woke her up saying, rubbing her eyes as he shoved her feet off his chest. It wasn't her fault he had fallen asleep on the bed last night, laying down near her feet. She was surprised she hadn't kicked him.

"You're horrible at waking people up - have I told you that before? A shove, a violent shake, a _run, Granger_."

"That was an atrocious mockery of my voice. Y-- What did I say about the feet?"

"I don't know, I was trying to _sleep_. They didn't even move."

"A couple millimeters, at least."

"You're the one in their natural path. Plus, you're warm. They automatically seek out warmth."

"All by themselves?"

"Yes. It's Feet Instinct. I've read about it."

"Did you read about How to Lie Horribly while you were at it?"

"That comes naturally."

He laughed at her and she smiled into her pillow, moving her face away from the hard corner of a book.

**12:36pm**

"I'm fully aware of how to _read a fucking book_ properly!"

"You were not! I watched you skip past _at least_ five pages of--"

"It was a bullshit section!"

"How do you know! How do you know it wasn't scribbled in the margins, or a mention of--"

"Do you want us here for the next _year_? There are over a hundred books in that bloody room! We're--"

"And one of them might be the key to, oh, what was-- _Saving our lives_!"

" _I know_ _that_! And the sooner we find it, the sooner we can perform the spell, and we'll know--"

"Trying to do it quickly and doing it _poorly_ do _not_ have to be the same things! You--"

"I'm not doing it _poorly_! I'm skipping the rubbish that doesn't matter--"

"How do you know it doesn't matter if you aren't _reading_ it, Malfoy?"

"Because any information on spells or a plant isn't going to be in a section on _cooking fucking chicken_!"

"You know what...I'll read the book, and--"

"Oh, yeah? Good luck reading Italian then, bint. Here, take it-- There, now g-- Don't fucking throw shit at me!"

"Eruh!"

**November 8; 9:30am**

She had had a productive morning. She had woken up before dawn, used very little water in cleaning herself up a bit, and had skimmed through four books - without skipping any pages. She had no idea why she had started to _cry_ when she snapped the fourth one shut, or why all that productivity felt as useless as clothes on dogs. One look at the shelves and her eyes glossed over, her heart sunk, and she had felt powerless against a rushing sea.

Emotions could hardly be helped. She was emotional by nature, and the stress, worry, and nerves were getting to her. She had lived for over half of a year in forests with killer creatures and magic, constantly moving closer to this _doomed_ moment, which was just _a little too familiar_. She had had more hope two years ago, though, because there hadn't been any knowledge of the whole thing going _completely wrong_ in the past-future. She had fee-- _something_ going on with The Biggest Git in the World, who also happened to be avoiding her at the moment, despite that _this was it_. Somewhere in these books was what they needed for _survival_ , the clock was ticking, and she was finding nothing. Everything was overwhelming her right now, and all she could do was just cry.

Which was why, in the Universe's Continued Plot to Screw With Her, this moment must have been lined up perfectly with the approaching sound of Draco's footsteps. Luckily, Hermione had expected as much, and was the sort that liked to laugh back in the universe's face. She turned quickly, facing the far wall, and flipped open Book Four before he even entered the room. She faked a yawn as she rubbed at her face, blinking frantically and swallowing thickly.

She heard him drop a pile of books across the room, and then walk to the shelves next to the bed. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, though she couldn't possibly see him, and flipped a page. "Did you want to reread these or...?"

She didn't answer him, sniffing on accident, but she remembered how it wasn't an unusual sound to make. He was silent behind her, which made her think she had given herself away, and she tensed when something hit the bed. She heard him start pulling books off the shelf then, and she flipped another page, pretending to read until he walked out.

She counted his footsteps into the other room, waiting until she reached nine before she turned to look. She released a quick breath and reached out to pick up the wooden figurine of them, bringing it into her lap. She ran her finger over their heads, their combined hands, and then across the _finally_. They had to find it. Wherever it was in these books, they must have found it, and they would again.

He had probably meant to use it against her demands for thoroughness, but he must have changed his mind. She took a calming breath, and was thankful all the same.

**12:00pm**

She pushed herself up on the table, wiggling in a poor attempt to make a hard surface comfortable. He bit his lips, his eyes flicking to her feet before looking up at her. She gave him a little smile, which only seemed to make him more apprehensive, and she scooted a little closer.

"Do you know Latin?"

"A little." He took the book when she held it out to him.

She moved close enough that their knees were touching as she pointed to a word on the page. "Do you know what that means?"

"Should I?"

"I was just wondering." She bent her head, his hair brushing hers as she looked for the other word she wanted to ask about. He pulled up to give her a weird look, and her gaze drifted between him and the book. "I can read upside down as easily as I can right side up."

"Of course you can."

She hadn't thought about how distracting it would be to have his face so close to hers, but she forcefully lowered her eyes back to the book, and his followed.

**6:33pm**

Twice she had thought she found it for a few sentences, and once Draco had shot up so quickly he tripped her heart out of her chest as well, but they hadn't found it yet. They would have to leave some time tomorrow or the next for water, and she tried to calculate their speed, books read, and books left to figure out how many they would have to carry.

"It's already starting to get dark. We should have bought candles." Draco popped a grape into his mouth, and his one eye squinted shut for a moment as his lips drew down. She laughed at him. "Sour?"

"Inedible." He rolled one out of his palm and to the tip of his fingers, holding it out to her.

She put a finger to the line she was reading and bent forward, biting it from his fingers, and returned to her book as she chewed. It had a little bit of sourness, but she wouldn't call it _inedible_. They had to make due with what they had. She reached over absently to pluck one of hers out of the tin and held it out to him, skimming down to the next paragraph. She jumped when she felt his mouth close over her fingertips, his teeth grazing the tops of her nails. Her eyes darted up to his as he drew back, and she watched the muscles move at the corners of his jaw, his mouth, and then his throat when he swallowed. She wondered if the absent way in which she took it from his fingers had made his breath short as well.

He looked...a bit hungry, so in her flustered state, she grabbed him another grape. He looked at it before closing his book, putting it behind him, and leaned forward to hold her wrist. He took her book with his other hand, tossing it behind her, and pushed up to his knees on the table. She held her breath as he bent his head, her fingers in his mouth again, and she felt the moist heat of his exhale. Oh, this wasn't going to be good. Wasn't going to be good in the way that it was going to be _very good_ , and--

He pulled her wrist to his shoulder before releasing it, his hand sliding across her cheek, and she turned her face up to him. His lips closed over hers, the pressure soft, and she reached up to clasp her hands behind his neck. His hand came down at her side and she sucked his bottom lip, tasting the sour tang of the grapes. The tip of his tongue flicked across her top lip, ran the length of her bottom, and his hand moved down to her neck. She breathed out shakily, the tip of her tongue circling his between their mouths, and she slipped a hand up into his hair.

The tip of his fingers slid towards the back of her neck, his thumb moving up to rest against her jaw, and there was a tremble in her chest from lack of air or _something_. She pushed into his mouth, her hand at the bottom of his neck sliding down the top of his back. She grabbed a handful of his shirt, tugging it to pull him _closer_ , to feel some part of his body beyond his mouth and hands. He pushed against her gently, letting it be her choice, and she lowered her back to the table as he followed her down.

The tin clamored and clinked off the floor, and she moved her legs between his as he hovered over her. She was the first to break on the rather soft and slow exploration of each other, and it only took two pushes of her tongue and a fist of his hair for him to join her. His mouth grew more demanding, pulling harder, pushing deeper, stroking faster, and something really had to be done about how quickly he took her breath away.

He tugged on her lip before pulling up by millimeters, shifting above her as books thudded to the floor. She kissed his cheek, his jaw, _needing more_. Needing to have her mouth on him, her hands, to feel him closer and tighter, and oh, his heart was beating just as rapidly as hers. She sucked the spot, feeling his pulse against her tongue, and her fingers curled at the sound of his moan. She remembered what happened any time she got near his neck, and he settled his hips against hers, his reaction pressing against her hard enough for her to gasp out her breath.

It made her feel flustered on top of her dizzy spin and need, and she didn't know what to do with herself. All she could concentrate on was the shape and feel of him against her, the contrast of his harder lines to her softness. She felt a little _taken over_ , and wrapped up, and consumed, and she wasn't so sure it was a bad thing.

Her chest hurt from the pounding of her heart, and her throat was dry enough to burn with every sharp pull of air. His palm pressed against the back of her head, and when she reached the start of his shoulder, she wondered if he would have the same reaction as her when he-- He jerked against her when she bit the spot, and her stomach jumped as they both moaned. _Oh_ , that had felt far too good to have him push against her there. She could feel the ache building, and she had to forcefully stop her instincts of rocking against him.

He breathed something above her head, fisting her hair, and pulled her head back. He kissed her hard, a drag of his mouth, his tongue seeking hers. His fingers were at the hem of her shirt, pushing under and then up her skin, and her stomach caved in under his touch. She felt the muscles in his arms tense under her fingers, sliding them up the sleeve of his T-shirt to grab his upper arm. His thumb brushed over her nipple, back, again, and then he cupped her. The sensation shot straight down, and her hips snapped up as his pushed forward, and her mind went completely blank for a second. Her head hit the table, and his mouth latched to the skin at the edge of her jaw.

She fisted his hair again, closing her eyes as she panted for breath, and he sucked the spot behind the bottom of her ear. His lip pulled, tracing the line of her earlobe, and she shivered at the push of his exhale across the sensitive skin. He breathed again, and it could have been the beginning of her name or nothing at all. He kissed her jaw, and his fingers moved to pinch her nipple a little too hard. It straddled a line of pain-pleasure that had her making a little sound of pain at the same time she rocked against him. He rocked back in reaction, and she was halfway through a whimper when his mouth met hers again.

The rougher pad of his thumb skated around her nipple as she pushed into his mouth, and his hand dropped down. She held her breath, which really wasn't a good idea, and he lifted the hem of her shirt up. He pulled back to look at her with darker eyes and a flush across her cheekbones, and she finally sucked in a breath, the world tilting a little. She had to kiss him again just from the look on his face and the way it twisted her gut, and his hand dug its way between her and the table. He pulled her up as he leaned back to his knees, and she lifted her arms when he grabbed the hem again. She felt a little ridiculous, because she was pretty sure this wasn't the moment to look like an oversize kid getting undressed. She didn't think he thought the same, though, considering how quickly he got it over her head.

His eyes were completely focused on her breasts, and if he hadn't just tossed her shirt across the room, she might have been putting it back on. She felt incredibly shy as she shifted awkwardly in front of him, his hands reaching out to grab her hips. She took a deep breath, and his eyes flashed to hers. He smirked, and with his eyes hooded on a dark look, he looked positively _wicked_. He licked his lips as her heart did some very dangerous pauses and jumps, his hands sliding up her sides as he leaned them back again. He kissed her like he wanted to sink her into him by way of his mouth, stealing her hesitancy in the almost frantic movements of his lips, the rub of his tongue, the pressure of his fingers.

His hand thudded down next to her head as they drew apart on a gasp, and he kissed her chin, neck, her collarbone. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he worked his way down, kissing and sucking her skin. The tension grew tighter within her until it felt like everything was moving and rushing, _alive_ and wild inside of her. She couldn't catch her breath, and she knew that he knew this with the way his mouth was following the rapid rises and falls of her chest. She thought she might be overreacting, that she should be more calm and collected, but she _couldn't stop_. His mouth was fire across her skin, and every section beneath his mouth awoke in wait for that heat until she was trembling with anticipation.

His hand clenched into a fist beside her head, white-knuckled, and she realized that she was moving against him in tiny little thrusts of her hips. Her body had reacted without her noticing, searching for a release to that tension. His hips were deathly still against hers, but his fist looked like it would shatter if he squeezed any harder. Her breath shuddered as she pushed her hips down against the table, embarrassed, and her body protested the choice. His mouth was on the fabric of the bikini top now, and she shifted at the ache between her thighs, jerking forward at the book corner that stabbed into the back of her shoulder.

Draco's head whipped up, and his eyes flashed around them before settling back on hers. She pushed up until she was sitting, and he pulled back to his knees, her breath catching for no apparent reason. "There's a...a book."

He blinked at her, confused, and she was glad it was as hard for him to comprehend words as it was for her to say them. She twisted around, reaching for the books she had been fine with laying on until they decided to turn violent. She pushed them back on the table before twisting forward again, her eyes darting towards the bedroom before settling on his. He looked at her for a second before turning his head to see where she looked, and she held her breath. She hadn't even meant to look over there, but a bed was a lot more comfortable for-- For what? What was she--

Draco kissed her again, his hands on either side of her head, and his mouth the same as it had been a minute ago. She was the one who slid into his mouth, though, her hand grabbing the back of his neck. One of his arms dropped to her waist, and he pulled her with him as he walked back on his knees. Books thudded to the floor as her mouth pressed more firmly to his, his teeth grazing her lip. He pulled back as he pushed himself off the end of the table, his arm pulling her until she was pressed tightly against him, her legs at his hips. He pulled her face towards him, and she kissed him, feeling his hand track up her thigh.

She tugged on his shirt, spinning her tongue around his, but he didn't move to take it off. She huffed, because if he thought he was going to leave it on while she had-- She moaned, surprised when he lifted both of her breasts in his hands, her legs clamping at his sides. There had been no gradual push up her body that time, and his fingers were a lot more decisive as she tried to stop another groan in her throat. He murmured something against her mouth, but she couldn't hear it over the hammer of her heartbeat in her ears. His lips dragged down, and she scrunched her fingers until his shirt was halfway up his back. He stepped back, taking the heat of his body with him, and lifted his arms. She yanked his shirt over his head, and it hadn't even cleared both hands before he was touching her again, stepping back between her legs.

She could feel her lip swelling under the suck of his mouth, his hand sliding around his back, and then he yanked her off the table. She squeaked in surprise as she hit her feet, but he didn't stop kissing her, leading them back. Her stomach flipped and her heart skipped painfully, tension winding thick around her bones. She felt clumsy, both of them stumbling, and her knees felt a little too spongy for things like walking and coordination. Too many emotions were in the rush of her blood, and she found her hands were shaking as they clutched his back.

_What am I doing, what am I doing_ , and then Draco paused outside of the doorway, his kiss gentling to a slow burn, and his fingers splayed out across her back. She could feel his quick breaths, his skin hot and smooth against hers as she pushed closer. Her head felt too light compared to the rest of her body, she couldn't catch her breath, her heart was doing worrying things, and her blood was pushing too fast. She thought these things should scare her more than they were, but she was clinging onto them as much as she was him. She felt like she was going to break inside, and she felt she was going to explode if she didn't.

It was the tremble inside of him when he breathed in that had her pushing forward a little harder, and he took a step back, pulling her with him, another, another. They were halfway across the room when she started feeling frantic - frantic to touch him, to kiss him, to have him closer, to move, to remember everything she's read on the subject, to make sure she was making--

Her head fell back on a breathy sound as his lips moved to her neck, and his hands dropped to the button of her jeans. _Oh, I-- God. God, God, God_. She dug her fingers into the tops of his arms as he pushed her jeans down her hips, and his mouth moved back to hers. He was going to see her naked. Two little pieces of fabric and he was-- _She_ was going to see _him_ naked. Draco Malfoy, naked and... The apprehension collided with anticipation until she didn't even know what to do with herself. She felt like shaking out her limbs, or crawling up his body, or disappearing, and none of them could be fully satisfactory.

She slid her hands up his arms, shoulders, and to the sides of his neck, breathing in his exhale before his tongue twisted around hers. His hand slid up to her chest, his fingers pushing under the fabric, and an _oh_ came out on her hard breath. He hummed, the sound vibrating against her stomach and into her mouth, his other hand slipping down to her bum. He tugged her forward as he rocked into her, and that ache intensified until she couldn't even think beyond it for eight fast pounds of her heart.

She was supposed to be doing something. What was the next logical step? She could have laughed at the question - as there was nothing really logical about this - but she felt like doing a lot of things right then, and none of them were laughing. Trousers. Yes, trousers - had to come off. She dropped her hands down his chest to the waist, feeling the trail of hair beneath her fingertips as she grabbed the button. _Jesus_ , who _made_ these things? Was the button _glued_ shut?

She stretched her fingers out to attempt making them steady, feeling stupid that she was fumbling with a _button_. She pulled her mouth from his to look down at it in the dim light of the room, and she felt him turn his face down, his breath in her hair. He ran his hand up her back, and she felt him tug loose the tie of the bikini, just as his button finally came out. She moved the zip down, her eyes growing wide as her knuckles skimmed over the hardness pushing the fabric, and he thrust forward against her hand on a moan. Her heart jumped, and she suddenly felt like smiling and running at the same time. She did that. She caused that reaction in him, which was...was quite a reaction. And now...

She pushed his trousers down, bringing her head up, and he shifted as he kicked them off. She realized her jeans were still around her ankles, and she kicked them off too. She looked up when she felt the straps of her top slip down her arms, and Draco's eyes were connected solid to hers as he pulled it off the rest of the way. She took in a deep, stuttering breath.

"I'm nervous," she blurted out, and her face heated up more than it already was. It made her feel like her skin was stretching, and she looked up at him like she was hoping he hadn't heard.

She wondered if he was nervous too. She doubted he would admit it, or stop for a little chat about it. He just kept staring down at her until she felt like she was going to tear her way out of her skin, or maybe bolt for the door in a less violent end, and then he kissed her. A brush of his mouth as his hands wrapped around her hips, his lips pushing and pulling softly, and she grabbed his hips too. He pulled her so tightly against him that she was forced to move her hands around to his back, feeling the pull of muscles and bones as he brought them a step closer to the bed. Her chest was pushed against his, skin against skin, moving her as he moved, and it felt as foreign as it felt good.

She pushed closer at the feeling, and his hips pressed more firmly against her, the heat of him searing through his shorts and against her stomach. Their mouths became more demanding the closer they got to the bed, until she couldn't breathe again, until all she tasted was him. His hands ran up and down her hips, over the string of her bottoms, and she felt his breath pause with hers when he tugged the strings loose.

She was naked. She was _completely naked_ now. Her hands almost immediately dropped to his shorts just to distract herself, and she felt the line of his body, his skin against her palms as she pushed them down. Their mouths paused as he moved his hips back away from her, reaching between them to help push them down, and she couldn't even help but look. She only caught a glimpse of the tip, red and shining, when he dragged her head up to kiss her again. _Okay_ , definitely a penis. Penis, penetration, cervix -- _what_?

She would have pressed a hand to her forehead if they weren't so busy in his hair and trying to break the bones in his shoulder. His hand fisted in her hair while the other rubbed erratic patterns down and across her back, and she sucked in a heavy breath as he moved his hips forward and slid against her. The length of him pressed hot to her stomach, and if this caused any sort of words from her, they were swallowed by his mouth. He pushed closer and groaned, and she burned the hardness, the heat, the smoothness into her memory.

_Oh, God, oh, God_ became the mantra in her head, and it grew into a collision of letters when his hand slid over her hip and _down, down_. Her hips pulled back on instinct, blood rushing to her face, and she was a bit mortified at the sound of his finger pushing into wetness. _Normal reaction, Hermione. The body produces-- Oh, God, oh--_ Her hands pulled away from him, twisting and hovering above his skin because she had _no idea_ what to do, and her chest was getting so tight in panic. Then his finger slid up, _up_ , and her entire body jerked with the cry that tore from her mouth at the pass of his fingertip.

"Fuck," he breathed, but before she could process it, his finger was back, and her hands slapped back against him at the rock of her hips.

His finger spun in tight circles, and that ache coiled just as tightly, until she couldn't even function enough to kiss him. He pressed his forehead against her for a moment, both of them panting, and her breath started to come out in little _uh, huh, uh_ _s_. She couldn't stop the pushes of her hips if she tried, and her head fell back when his face dipped to her neck. He panted against her for four breaths before his mouth closed over the skin at the start of her shoulder. He sucked hard, her blood rushing up, building against her skin like her heartbeat, like the pressure inside of her, until she was a chorus of moans and little gasps.

She was committed to the feeling of absolutely shattering apart, and her nervousness disappeared under the strokes of his fingers, the suction of his mouth. Her mind was free of thoughts, and for perhaps the first time in her life, it was completely about _sensations_ without analyzing, memorizing, or cataloging. She was lost in the fire he created inside of her blood, in that shaking tension of her bones. It wasn't until he stopped that she realized the back of her legs were against the bed, and there was a drying line of wetness on her stomach. _An erection will--_

He leaned them back far enough for her to fall into the bed, and his grip and closeness brought him with her. He lifted up on his arms and she met his eyes, her breath catching at the look on his face. She blushed a little, the attention different when it came from his eyes rather than his body, and when he was _staring_ at her. She crawled back and he moved over her, with her, his body brushing against hers and the ring from the twine around his neck settling at the base of her throat. His lips were puffy, his cheeks red, and she would consider his expression dangerous had she not wanted to be caught. The amount of intensity in which he was looking at her with was making it harder to breathe, which she would have thought impossible before he started to prove it.

She stopped when her elbows hit the edge of the bed, and she could hear him swallow as his eyes dragged away from hers, flicking across her face. She wanted him to move, to rid her of that tight need in her gut, and the anxiety that had her going through facts in her brain. _\--pain, or a little pressure. Wait to adjust, if needed. Angling your hips will_ \-- She reached up to push his hair back from his forehead, forcing stillness to her rattling bones. -- _will orgasm before you. Men tend to--_ He leaned down, and it was his tongue that pressed against her mouth before his lips did. She parted her lips, the tip of his tongue swirling around hers before pushing against her, pushing deeper. She slid her fingers into his hair, tightening her grip on the arm next to her shoulder as his other slid down her side.

The sun was setting outside of the windows to their left, lighting him golden, while she was washed in blue within his shadow. She felt his hips pull up and his hand leave her, and she reminded herself that it would only hurt a little. She had gone through a lot worse, so this was like... This was like her and Draco - more difficult than it looked, half-insane, and maybe good enough in all the unexpected ways that made it, maybe, mean something. It was explosive, unpredictable, and it scared her a little less than it intrigued and excited her. She had grown to want it a lot more than she didn't, and it was confusing, startling, and somehow made sense. It might just be the Stupidest Idea Ever, but somehow he-- it, was worth it.

She felt him push and prod against her and she held her breath, both of their mouths pausing against the other's. She had a moment where she felt like absolutely nothing she could do was the right thing to do, and she had to pull in a deep breath just to calm herself. She angled her hips up just a little as he _down, down_ , and he pushed into her just a little when he reached it. He rushed out a breath as she rushed one in, and his hand came down on the bed next to her ribs. She blinked wide eyes at his eyelids, trying to picture what it felt like, and she only had time for half a breath when his hips rocked forward. Her eyes snapped shut, and any sound she made was lost under the drag of a moan from his throat and against her mouth. She bit his lip, closer to her teeth than her own, and he stopped moving after two almost desperate pushes of his hips. His arm was shaking under her hand, and he groaned again, his hand moving to press against her ribs as she released her breath and teeth. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as she thought it would, but it was still a bit of pressure and _accommodating_.

She didn't try to push past the feeling, but studied it instead. She couldn't actually believe he was inside of her. She knew that was the way it worked of course, but to _feel_ _him_ within the depth of her was...startling, amazing, bewildering, strange, and, and...wonderful. He was _connected_ to her, _a part_ of her. It was more intimate than she had even thought it to be through her studying on the subject - she felt completely exposed, overpowered, and overwhelmed.

"All right?"

She opened her eyes at his whisper, and just stared at him for a couple seconds. It was taking her a bit to process the whole connected to her bit of this, and it might have been the most personal moment in all her life. She committed him to memory, here above her, the darker grey, the blue of twilight on his skin, the lines of his flushed face.

"Yeah."

"Good." He nodded, and his voice sounded strained as he pulled back, pushing in again. Chords rose up in his neck, and air broke in a rush from his throat.

He leaned down to kiss her, his thumb rubbing back and forth over her side as his hand squeezed tighter. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his hips sped up. She moved her legs up, clamping them to his sides as the tension started to build again. This felt a lot better than she thought it would, too, and her breath was coming quick again, still trying to adjust to him inside her.

"Oh, fuck. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ," he groaned against her mouth and moved his lips to her cheek. His breath sounded like he was trying to hold it, only to have it explode out every time he sunk into her again. _Nuh, nuh_ against her jaw, her neck, and then her shoulder.

She pushed her cheek against the side of his head as his hips grew erratic, and she felt the long moan tear out of his body against her shoulder, her cheek, her chest. He pumped his hips three times before he stopped on a shuddered breath, his body shaking against hers. She panted with him, closing her eyes, and slid her hands down the thin layer of sweat along his spine.

He had lasted longer than she expected him to, and she tried to ignore the dissatisfaction in her gut for the satisfaction in her chest. The experience had been imperfectly, awkwardly, perfect. It wasn't what she had thought it would be, but it was _right_ in its own way. She couldn't help but feel closer to the blond currently catching his breath against her - she wasn't sure if she was supposed to or not, but there was definitely something there that had her hands pulling him fully down on top of her. The intimacy had not been lost to her, and she somehow felt weirdly...honored to know that she had seen him in this way. And that she had seen him first. There was an entirely new dimension to him, to what they were together, and how she would look at him from now on. She wasn't sentimental about her virginity, but she was very attached to this moment, no matter what came after.

There was also something laughing a bit hysterically in the back of her head while repeating _sex, with Draco Malfoy. Sex...Draco Malfoy_. She thought this might be normal.

She was just starting to wonder what she was possibly going to do next when he pushed up and back, pulling out of her, and looked down at her. She drew in a long breath, staring back at his expression, the sheen to his reddened face and the brightness of his eyes. He was beautiful to her, right then, and she wondered if it was strange to think so. She bit her lip, feeling shy and unsure, and then his fingers touched her stomach, sliding down.

"What are you doing?" It sounded loud in the empty room, but low under the pounding in her ears.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he breathed, whispered back, and then his fingers-- _there_.

She jumped, her back arching, and he lowered his head to her neck. She stared at the ceiling, the bones in his shoulder, with wide eyes, breathy little sounds escaping her as he rubbed against her. His mouth pulled open, hotter than the heated skin he sucked into his mouth. His finger spun and his tongue mimicked against her skin.

"Oh, you-- _Oh_ , I--" she breathed, and his fingers slid down to where he had been, pushing in, and they both inhaled sharply.

She felt sore for three strokes of his long fingers, but then it was gone, replaced by a return of need. The tension was building again, and if it didn't break this time, she thought she would scream. Just fall apart in an unsatisfied mess of a former human being. Her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck as his mouth moved up hers, soft suctions across her skin until he found the spot that made her moan. He sucked harder, his fingers thrusting faster. She closed her eyes, hearing the dead leaves brush and scrape across the floor, his breath beneath her own, the suction of his mouth, the quick pushes of his fingers.

She pressed her hands into his damp skin, pushing her head back into the bed, and _oh, oh, oh_. She was fighting the decision of holding her breath or gasping, and Draco's mouth moved across the pound of her pulse in her throat.

" _Oh_. Dra _co_. I..." She couldn't stop the words, too focused on that growing, tightening center, the build that he drove forward and that she clung to as much as she did him.

She was pushing back against his fingers before she thought to, and he hissed when her fingers curled her jagged nails into his skin. He dragged his mouth up her neck, kissed her clenching jaw, and dropped his head until her jaw was pushing into his cheek. She could feel his breath still coming fast, and his thumb climbed, pushing and spinning, and she was _almost, almost_ to that edge. She felt like she were going to turn into tiny molecules and burst into the air just _any_ second _, any second_ , and she would spin out madly in her space within the framing of his body.

Her head pushed up, her forehead slipping across his shoulder as she struggled towards oblivion. Her body curled up and, _and, and_ \-- She shoved her forehead against his shoulder, her mouth falling open as she cried out, and everything spun dizzily behind her eyelids. She felt like she had just lost all the weight of her skin, and the only thing keeping her to the ground was the press of his body to hers. Emotions, thoughts, went the way of the molecules, and she collapsed back against the bed with a dragging wheeze for oxygen.

She had only just released it, her head still spinning and body still buzzing, when he kissed her. Two pulls of her lips between his before he slid to the side. It was silent except for their breath and the scraping leaves, and she suddenly felt completely drained. She couldn't see him in the dark of the room as she tried to catch her breath, her eyelids drooping, but she felt his chest pressed against her arm. She turned her heavy head, shutting her eyes, and fell asleep to the movement of his breathing.


	31. Part Thirty-One

**November 9; 4:14am**

It took her eyes a little while to adjust to the moonlight in the room, and she could still hardly see. Draco's throat was millimeters from her face, and she had turned on her stomach at some point, though he didn't appear to have moved at all. Except for the hand now on her back and being pressed a little tighter to her side.

She blushed, which was ridiculous given the fact that he wasn't even _awake_ , but it happened all the same. She almost wanted to laugh for no reason at all, but she could feel it bubble up inside her chest. She was slightly embarrassed by her reactions last night, and she tried to ignore them in favor of remembering his. She almost couldn't believe it happened. If she weren't currently laying naked beside his own naked self, she might have doubted it.

She had sex with Draco Malfoy. The laugh bubbled up again, but she held it behind her grin. It was so absurd, but it made perfect sense. It was... She couldn't have asked for it to go any better than that, really. Not with anyone. She could have done without some of the awkwardness - that she was sure would follow today as well - but it had been good enough to make her heart a little quicker just by thinking about it. She had expected a little regret, but she couldn't find any. It might also depend on how he acted today.

She needed to clean herself up, and she pushed over, away from his hand. She felt it slide against her skin, and she got goosebumps in the cold when his body heat left her. She was sore when she sat up, though it was better when she stood, and she grabbed her clothes off the floor. She stared at him for several minutes, trying to let it sink in -- as if it hadn't enough last night - and remember the details.

She grabbed the blanket from the top of the bed, pulling it over him. If the mental images had been bad before, she was screwed now.

**8:38am**

She had tried to use as little water as possible to clean herself up, but they were still very low. They would have to leave soon to find a river - tonight or tomorrow morning. By her calculations, with their speed and if they left tonight, they would have to carry about twenty books with them. It wasn't going to be easy, but they didn't have a choice.

She wasn't even sure which ones they had gone through yesterday. They had knocked most the books off the table last night, and she had taken an hour of going through them to see which ones she had already read. She left the ones she hadn't there, in case Draco had, and grabbed new books so she wouldn't be wasting time rereading.

She looked up at the sound of his footsteps coming out of the bedroom. He didn't look like he had just woken up - his eyes weren't drooping but alert, and his hair was in some semblance of order. She could see a red mark at the bottom of his neck from her, and she felt a bit smug about this, since she happened to have felt at least three tender spots on her own. He was also dressed, though when her eyes quickly swept down his length, she only saw the details of his nudity. She blushed, smoothing her hands over the pages of her book.

"Hey," she greeted. Was that what she was supposed to do? Were they more of a go up and kiss greeting level now? Maybe she should have smiled. Maybe she shouldn't act like last night was normal. Maybe--

"Hey." He didn't sound like he just woken up either. What had he been doing in there? Trying to avoid the awkwardness until he realized it was impossible? Deciding greeting levels? Regretting it?

She didn't think most males felt the way most females did about virginity, but she wondered if he was having too-late second thoughts about having her be the one to...receive it. She blushed harder at the image that word choice brought up, blowing air up to her curls and staring wide-eyed at the book. She read the same paragraph five times without a single moment of comprehension. She heard him track over to the table, raise himself up on it, sniff, and swipe a book.

"We're low on water." She had to say _something_.

"I know."

Maybe he was embarrassed for finishing...a bit quickly. It was absolutely normal for a virgin male not to hold himself off. She didn't think he would appreciate her telling him this. He had also...well, made up for it. She took a deep breath, squinting her eyes at the paragraph in a very intimidating way. If it did not allow her to process its words, she might toss it aside for the next one.

She glanced up at Draco, his eyes very concentrated on the book in front of him, and though she was seeing him from the side, she didn't think they were moving. She wondered if he thought she would use it against him. If every time he brought up her hair, or her talking, or whatever, she would bring that up. They had both been exposed and laid vulnerable to one another last night - their bodies, how well they did, the sounds or faces they made, _everything_. She would never use any of that against him, just like she hoped he never would her. Not even if he made some horribly amusing face, she wouldn't have laughed.

Or maybe _she_ made some weird face. Maybe she was horrible. Or he regretted it and it had nothing to do with virginity, but just because it was her. Maybe this was just what he wanted the whole time, and now that he got it, it wasn't important to speak to her. Or maybe this was normal - was this normal? Was he making sure it was normal because he-- She shook her head, slapping the heel of her palm into her forehead. There was no reason for her to freak out yet or get angry. They just needed some time to adjust - right? She thought they were just feeling too open, uncomfortable, and nervous right now. The air around them was thick in tension, and she had no idea what to do or how to feel about it.

"Do you think we should leave today or tomorrow for the river?" She tried to sound easy -- conversational, light, normal, _easy_.

His eyes moved then, darting up to their single half-full water bottle, then up to the doorway of the bedroom they had...slept in last night. His jaw clenched, and he looked back at the book. "Tonight. Or we'll go at least a day without."

She wondered why he looked at the bedroom - if he was thinking that he didn't want to get in that situation again, or if he was thinking how they used up a lot of it because of that. She wanted to poke a hole through his skull and put her eye to it, like those View-Master toys, where you look into it and click through the pictures.

"All right."

**5:48pm**

Walking down the stairs was a lot easier than walking up them, but she had to catch herself from falling a couple of times. It was like her legs were going off muscle memory, they just kept _up, down, up_. If she pushed out a little too far, she would catch herself on the edge of the stair, or her trainer would scrape down a stair or two. Falling would be...she would be dead. Spine broken, head shattered, dead. Some people survived horrible things, and some even survived them unscathed, but over a thousand stairs was a little too much for her luck to handle.

Trying to read at the same time was not helpful. Neither was the weight of books in her bag. If her bag swung out, her momentum shot forward, and her balance was shot. It was pulling heavily, digging into her shoulder, adding to the burn building in her calves. She used to think she hated mountains a lot more than stairs, but then _someone_ had to invent a _mountain of stairs_ in her life.

Draco was keeping in step with her, and on top of the tension between them was the threat of what was coming. _Any second now_ , she felt. _Any second_.

**November 10; 1:10pm**

It was dangerous business to read at the same time as walking through woods. She narrowly missed tripping over bushes or walking into trees, and shoulder brushes and a little tripping had become common. She had to stop herself from getting into the knowledge of the books, skimming past everything that looked interesting in order to find what was vital. She would find herself reading about random things for three pages before she would realize and snap herself out of it.

She looked up at the thud in front of her, and looked down at the spot Draco's hand had just left in the air. She paused as she stared at the book, some word in Italian engraved across the cover. "You can't just leave them here."

He stopped and turned towards her, his eyebrows drawing together. "You cannot be serious, Granger."

"These are someone's--"

"Who is probably dead and doesn't care. They rot in that house or they rot in the woods."

"But--"

"Books," he pointed, "aren't real people. There are a million copies of it, and it doesn't _care_ if we leave it--"

"I obviously know that," she bit out. "But it's not--"

"Do _you_ want to carry them? Because I'm not. I'm tossing them when I finish, so if you want to pick them up and carry them - when you already look like you're about to topple over - have at it."

She glared at him and he bit his lips, raising his eyebrows for what he already knew would be her choice. "Git."

"Swot."

They eyed one another long enough that her hands started wringing her shirt, and she felt like her head was in a bad position when his gaze dropped to her neck. She wondered if he knew she could never look at him the same again, and if it was the same for him. Even just looking at his face, she saw what it looked like after he had came, and his voice made a chorus of _fuck_ play again in her mind. She felt increasingly confused, and she thought maybe this was why not many people slept with anyone outside of a relationship. Especially someone they would be spending every day with for the next _who knew how long_ _._

She straightened up when he took the three steps towards her, and it took her a second to realize he was doing something more than staring down at her. She looked over as she heard a thud, and watched him drop a second book from her bag. He pulled one more, tossing it to the ground. They were all the ones she had already read, and she wondered how close he had been paying attention to her if he happened to know the slight differences in the binding.

"Better?"

She sighed, and he shook his head, but she heard him huff a laugh when he started walking away.

**3:49pm**

"Holy shit," was the first thing that came out of her mouth, though she didn't know if she had ever said it before.

Draco sent her an amused look, and she thought it was strange how she could tell just by how both of his eyebrows rose, one higher than the other. "I think this calls for more than _shit_."

She reached out to touch the skeleton, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand back. "What? I--"

"Don't touch that. Who knows what kind of magic is on that. Or the _bacteria_." "It's just bones."  
"Of a giant beast, that is probably magical."

"I know. I couldn't help it, it was curiosity. Haven't you ever gone to those museums with the huge dinosaur skeletons, and you just want to _touch_ them? It's--"

"No."

"I could probably fit right in the middle of those rib cages." His hand tightened on her wrist. "I'm just _saying_. I wouldn't actually do it."

He hummed. "This must be what we've been hearing. What--"

"Ow!"

"Don't put your face--"

"I think it's very important that we thoroughly inspect this, Draco!" He stared blankly at her, and turned his head towards the skeleton when his lips started twitching. "What?"

He shook his head, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are we thoroughly inspecting?"

"Because if we have to fight it--"

"There will be no fighting. Do you see the _size_ of--" He looked angry by the idea alone.

"If we have to, I said. Now, look, see the space here? It's-- Why aren't you looking?"

"You're looking enough for both of us."

"This is important! You're going to have to know where--" His eyes were on her neck again, and he was staring just a little too intensely at the marks he had left there. He looked like...like he might be thinking about kiss--

"Where?"

"What?"

"Where? Know where what?"

Her nose wrinkled as her eyebrows drew down. Was he out of his mind? He was talking complete gibberish. Know where what, _what_? He laughed at her, and she thought he really might be going insane. Wasn't that in the top three signs of insanity, at least? Saying random, nonsensical things, and then laughing about them? It--

"Distracted, Granger?"

" _No_ , I am perfectly _aware_ of everything."

He smirked, and she sniffed at him, going back to pointing out the parts of the skeleton.

**November 11; 7:01am**

It was strange to wake up beside him an arm's length from her, when just a few days ago she had woken up naked and pressed against him. He was sleeping a lot closer than he used to, at least.

He had been looking at her neck quite a lot. Whenever he glanced at her, or spoke to her, his eyes seemed to be drawn right to the marks of his mouth on her skin. She caught him staring at her sometimes too, and she thought that maybe he didn't regret it. Maybe he didn't know what to do either, or this was just them, after. Maybe there had been no other way for it be that was better. Cuddling and holding hands? No, not with him. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. She might even like it, once she knew that this was anything _solid_. She still felt like she was floating - she didn't like not being able to define this, but she didn't know if they could until after they left.

It was darkly amusing that the hardest challenge to what they were, or what they would grow to be, would come _after_ they left these Islands. This could be some temporary, weird relationship forged by being constantly together, and going through all this mess with the other person being the only one you could count on. The feelings could go away when they weren't forced to be together anymore - she didn't think she would want to stop seeing him, even if it didn't mean like this, but she couldn't know what would happen. At least not at this point. It was completely infuriating - she would have expected no less.

She dropped one of the read books on his penguin, placing hers triumphantly on top.

**November 13; 2:07pm**

"For if you ever find your way home."

Hermione pushed her finger against the line to mark her spot, looking over at him. "What?"

He tilted the slim, simple book in his hands towards her, tapping the inside cover. "For if you ever find your way home. That's the inscription."

"It's a journal?"

"A story. I haven't read it." He shrugged a shoulder.

"Why would he leave that behind? He wasn't living there anymore before he disappeared, since there was nothing there. That seems personal. Like something you would keep."

"Perhaps he wasn't the one who had to find his way home," Draco murmured, flipping through the pages.

"There must be a key in that story somewhere. We're down to five books, and that's the only one that's seemed important. Find your way-- Don't ask me why my life seems to keep coming down to stories and ominous ends," she snapped, swiping the book out of his hand.

He curled his hand into a fist, and raised his eyebrows at her in that way that was usually followed by a side step and avoidance of eye contact.

**November 14; 4:49pm**

"--constantly finished before. You have no idea how much stuff I've had to deal with because of that. Even--"

"I asked you if you finished reading ten minutes ago, Granger. I hardly needed a rundown on your hardships as a bookworm."

"--which it is _not_. It's not my fault that I like to read. I like knowledge. Knowledge is power, surely you can understand that. I--"

"I'm not sure how I want to take that."

"--some powerful person, I just _enjoy_ knowing about things--" "Always said you were a know-it-all."

"--just never understood that. So there was no reason for you to give me that look when you found out I--"

"You are wound far too tightly. Thought..."

"--dark, so maybe if you would-- I don't like that gleam." She took a chug of the water bottle, screwing the cap on as she narrowed her eyes at him. She almost dropped it in the river when she missed the opening of her bag, and had to look down to slide it in properly.

He smirked. "Gleam?"

"You look far too Slytherin for me to feel comfortable at the moment. What is that? Did you all practice scheming and wicked looks in the mirror? I swear--"

He snapped the book shut in his hands and stalked towards her. She took a step back at his fast approach, startled, and he caught her wrist, tugging her forward. She made a flustered noise that sounded like she was trying to imitate a flying rocket, and his mouth was on hers before she could speak. She felt like pulling away and leaping on him at the same time, so she settled for kissing him back. She got lost in the heat of his mouth, the memories that shot through the front of her mind. She pushed up on her toes, falling into him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"You know, this isn't going to work every--"

He fisted her shirt, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip, and she might have made a little sound when she pushed her tongue out to meet his. She thought her body was acting worse than it normally was, _knowing_ what he could do, and not having that first time hurdle to stop them or make them unsure. She didn't know if a second time would be any less awkward than the first, but she felt...freer as she kissed him. A lack of indecision that weighed against her actions. _If_ it happened, she would be okay, _they_ would be okay, and she knew that. She didn't know why he was so addicting. After the first time she ogled him, kissed him, had sex -- _well, I've already done it once_. This was probably bad for her. She really didn't care.

There was something she...oh. "You can't just kiss me to shut me--"

He pulled her tighter, making it even harder to breathe as he kissed her again. Oh, whatever. He could figure that out later. Later when it didn't work, and, and, when she...she didn't... She wrapped her arm around his neck, her tongue dancing across his, and she felt his lips curve. He pulled back, and she hoped he didn't notice that she was breathless, since it would ruin her suspicious look. He bent down in front of her and picked up the book she had dropped, holding it out to her.

"You don't want to hurt its feelings."

"I'm going to hurt your feelings." She pressed the book to her chest, because maybe pressure would calm her heart rate.

"Those are my feet that you're glaring evilly at. And you--"

"I know, but they would be a lot easier to hurt than your feelings at this moment."

"Are you saying I don't have feelings?"

"I'm saying you have fragile feet."

He looked down at his boots, his eyebrows coming together and his forehead wrinkling. "I do not have fragile feet."

"Bony things," she muttered. "So, just...watch your step around me, Malfoy." He gave her a look of disbelief, his eyebrow raising slowly. "All right, a little corny, but it was _right there_. I almost _had_ to take it."

"Some things are better left unsaid. Or did I truly snog you senseless?"

She snorted, ignoring the heat at the tip of her ears, and opened her book. She thought that was the first time either of them had acknowledged anything between them out loud, besides the fights over what happened in the hallway. She didn't think it mattered, really, so she didn't know why she noticed. She was going to say that if he hadn't been able to snog her senseless, she would have never been snogging him in the first place, but then she would still be agreeing with him. She heard him follow behind her, muttering about fragile feet, and she was pretty sure she had won anyway.

**November 18; 7:12am**

She moved five books off her poor little penguin, checking it for injuries in case she had to chuck Draco's into a fire.

**10:32am**

"That had better be the last of the topsy-turvy sections," she bit out, rubbing the severe headache at the middle of her forehead. "You didn't tell me what the book was about."

"Huh?"

"Before we walked into it, you were telling me--"

"Oh! It's about a little boy who gets trapped in a bubble of time. He becomes ageless, the bubble stuck in the same spot in the woods, as he watches the trees grow from seeds to death. He becomes jealous of the lives people are leading, and then he becomes jealous of death. In the end his Great-something Grandniece gets stuck in the bubble with him, and he realizes he can get out, but she can't. He tells her he'll go to find help in the world to break the bubble, but the moment he steps outside of it, he dies. That's how it ends."

"What the hell is that supposed to tell us?"

"Appreciate the time you have, enjoy it, stop--"

"Time always collects, etcetera, I meant it's not helpful to our situation."

"I know," she sighed. _For if you ever find your way home_ _._ "Draco, what if it's like the story? What if they were like a family, or a group of people, who used the plant for immortality? Or even, they switched turns. One would live for a thousand years, and then the next person alive in their family would take over. Like the Grandniece took over for the boy, who was really her Great-something Granduncle."

"Why would anyone take turns with immortality? Why would a person who lived a thousand years care about sharing immortality with their Great--"

"The story implies duty. Maybe it was a family duty to protect the plant. Maybe that's why it's not so spread out. To protect time. To--"

"So you think we're going to run into the Great-something of the person Astherbey killed?"

"Maybe. I don't know if it was carried on. This book, the inscription...maybe the next in the line left. Maybe that's how Astherbey found out to kill the one that was currently protecting it. Maybe they were just ready to step out of the bubble. But _for if you ever find your way home_ \-- maybe it's the message of the book, or maybe it means they need the book, or something in it, for when they get here."

He took the book from her hand, running his fingers over the inside of the covers, flipping the pages. He exhaled heavily, handing it back to her. "Didn't you say that the map you found in Thrace only showed up under the sun?"

Her eyes darted up to the side of his face, and she looked back at the book again. "It's been in the sun, but...maybe that's it. Maybe it has to be exposed to something. Oh, God, I hope it's not their blood or--"

"We found it once."

"And now we have to find it again."

**November 22; 8:01am**

"I think this is the farthest north we should follow the river. Today we'll cut to the east, and I think we should walk until we hit the river near the mountains. Then we know we just have to travel northwest before we reach the other symbol. We're going to need water by then, so I think it's a good idea if we go to the river before the--" Draco stopped in front of her, his eyes dark, and she stared at him for two increasing beats of her heart before clearing her throat. "Don't think you're going to shut me up--"

His fingers skimmed the sheet at her side, and his eyes drifted down her face, throat, chest. "I'd think you were teasing me if I didn't know you better."

"What?" she whispered, feeling the heat of him against the coolness the river had brought her when he stepped closer. She only had to reach her finger out to touch him, and she bumped into him when she swayed forward.

He followed the knot down, fingers moving to expose the part in the sheet, and then his hand slid across her bare back. "No matter your efforts, depending on the way you stand and the position of the sun, I've been able to see you through this sheet since the second time you wore it."

She felt her cheeks heat up, surprised eyes darting to his, though he was still looking down. "No, you haven't."

He nodded. "Sometimes it's just your legs, or your body silhouetted. Other times..." He cocked his head and lifted his eyes to hers.

"You _pervert_!" She was ignoring all times she had ever stared at him a little more than she should have, because at least he hadn't been _obliviously_ naked. "Why didn't you tell me? You just--"

"Why would I?" He bent his head, his mouth to her shoulder, and she hoped he didn't notice the goosebumps it caused.

"Because...well, it would have been the decent thing to do!" His mouth was amazingly warm, and it was taking her quite a lot of effort to hold onto her...her... She reached up to grab his shoulders when he sucked her skin into his mouth, his teeth edging.

"I was hardly feeling _decent_ at the time."

"Well, I would hope you...you didn't hate me once..." She barely held back the moan.

"I don't mean that kind of decent, Granger."

"Hmm?"

He switched to the other side of her neck, his hair tickling her chin as he moved. "A little too coincidental that I had to use the loo nearly every time you got out of the bath, isn't it?"

She stared unblinking at the trees over his shoulder, trying to process that bit of information through the haze starting in her mind. Did he... She blushed, from her now known exposure and what he just admitted to doing. She tried to remember every time he had left once she got out of the river, searching for any hints. She wasn't sure how she should feel about it. She was happy she wasn't the only one so affected before they had even kissed. It made her feel a little more confident in his Recognition of Attraction, and she felt a bit good about herself that it had caused that reaction - but she also felt a little violated and embarrassed. She knew she regretted any guilt for mental images during that event that never happened if _he_ had been off creating events that _did_ happen.

She released a heavy breath, and it was enough for him to raise his head. He smirked, though she didn't know what he found amusing, and then kissed her. It took a few seconds for her not to be a little distracted with the information he had just thrown at her, but by the time his tongue curled around hers, she was lost. His other hand reached up, his fingers skimming along the line of the sheet at the top of her chest, and his other hand slid over to her hip. Her stomach clenched at the knowledge of being naked under the sheet, of his hand on her bare skin, and her hands ghosted down to his hips.

She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, biting it gently as she ran her tongue along it, and his hand pushed up to her chest. She pushed her fingers under the edge of his shirt, tracing the lines and curves of his hips, into his back, and he whispered something against her lips that she couldn't hear. She hated when he did that - he could talk if he wanted to, but at least speak up loud enough for--

"Oh," she whispered, her back arching to push herself against his hand, and he made an answering sound, pulling her hips against him.

Her fingers were hesitant on the curve of his spine before dropping to his hips again. He pushed forward against the press of her thumbs, pushing himself against her on a groan, and she gripped the hem of his shirt. She had to tug it twice under his arms before he pulled them away from her, grabbing it himself. She looked up as his head disappeared in the fabric, and then slid her hands around to his chest, dragging them down. She had read that men could be as sensitive as women with their nipples, but-- He growled low in his throat, and she stopped the circling of her thumbs to look up at him. He was looking back at her, his eyes more hooded than they had been before, and red across his cheekbones. She dragged her thumbs over his nipples, watching his expression. His jaw twitched, his lips parted, and he rocked into her. His hands flashed to her hips when the motion pushed her back, and he pulled her tighter, bending his head to kiss her again.

The pushes of his tongue were aggressive as his hand dragged up her side. It took her longer than it should have to know the bit of yanking was from him trying to undo the knot of the sheet. The burn grew more intense inside of her, knowing what was coming, but she still felt a little shy. She tried to remind herself that he hadn't just seen her body in the dimness of that bedroom, _apparently_ , so there was nothing new he would see in the brightness of the sun.

He gave three quick kisses to her lips before he moved his head to look at the knot, reaching for it with both of his hands. She tried to catch her breath, feeling his against her shoulder, and the heart she was trying to calm renegaded against her when he got the knot undone. He hesitated for a moment as her hands slid down the waist of his trousers, her breath held, and he turned to lay the sheet out next to them. She didn't even have time to pull in a full breath before his arms were back around her, and she was exhaling against his mouth.

She pressed her chest to his, against his skin, stealing his warmth, and he turned her towards the sheet. There was a few seconds of very awkward hunched-squatting-leaning where she thought she was going to crack her skull open or fall in a mess of naked embarrassment, but then her back was on the sheet and her skull was intact. The embarrassment lingered since she was just _laying_ there, every flaw on open display, her palms pressing to the ground to keep from rolling herself back into the sheet. He didn't seem to care or notice her discomfort, or the leg she was trying to cross over herself, his eyes taking their time as they traveled down her body. It was a contrast to the speed of his hands as he unbuttoned his trousers, shoving them and his shorts down at the same time.

She felt better now that she wasn't the only one naked, and she was distracted with devouring him by sight. She sucked in a breath when she looked at the length of him, standing straight and bobbing as he kicked off his boots and clothes, and she _remembered_ it. He was kneeling before she could study it as much as she wanted to, and she shyly opened her legs to make room for his body as he crawled up to her.

He stopped at her chest, which had not been in her plan for the following step,  
but she could barely acknowledge that when his mouth closed over her nipple. Her  
hand slapped into the back of his head as her back arched up, a whine squeezing out from her held breath when he sucked. His tongue skated around as the air _whoosh_  
ed out of her. He lifted her breast, his fingers massaging as his thumb circled slickly. She

"I want to try something," he rasped, but a response was lost to her when he gave a kiss of suction to her nipple, and her teeth sunk into her lip.

It wasn't until his mouth was dragging down to her stomach, and she wiggled self-consciously, that she remembered what he said. "Something?"

"Hmm?"

Her stomach caved under the hum of his lips, and he kissed down to her bellybutton. "Try something?"

"Mm-hm." He sucked the skin on her pelvis, and she dug her elbows in to scoot herself back, thinking he had _enough exploration_ of her body.

It wasn't a smart move, as she just basically put herself right in front of his _face_ , and his hands clamped around her hips as he _stared_. Her face flamed, and it felt like she breathed too much air directly into her chest. "I don't think so."

He looked up at her, his eyebrows coming up. "I'm pretty certain this is supposed to be enjoyable."

"Well, I... What if it's gross?" she asked weakly, which was not the most mature way to go about it, but maybe it would get the point in. He would...

"I don't think so." His lips curved, and his eyes were traveling back down. "But," she rushed, bringing his eyes back to hers, "if it's horrible--"

"Trust me." Oh, that was _completely unfair_. "If you don't like it, I'll stop." She didn't like it now. "Why would you even want--"

"Why do you think?" He was reaching down and his eyes were following, his fingers sliding to open her up to his...

Her elbows gave out, her hand pressing to her forehead as she stared up at the sky and hanging branches, mortified. Her face felt like it was on fire, and not the good kind he had ignited in her blood, and _what was he doing_? Just staring down there? She could feel his breath, and it was making the tension in her thighs twitch. Thank God she had just got back from bathing, but she was still, well... _wet_ , and he would be... Jesus, she could just see his face pulled into--

She squeaked, her hips snapping up at the pass of his tongue. She held her breath, raising her head to bring her surprised eyes to his lifted face. He was running his tongue around his mouth like he was trying to figure out the taste, but there was no sign of disgust on his face. "Good?"

Her head dropped back and the air pushed out, his hand clenching at her hip. "Yeah," she choked, and was just starting her next breath when she had to hold it, his tongue pushing into her again.

She could hear the sound, and it was making her more embarrassed, but he wasn't pulling away. In fact, he was rather... _enthusiastic_ , and she was having trouble breathing for an entirely different reason than anxiety. His tongue slid up, _up_ , and her hips bounced again as she moaned, a shock of pleasure running through her.

"Oh, God."

"Yeah?" he asked, and she could feel that his breath was coming faster too.

"Y-huh." His hair slid across her skin, and then his tongue was back, long strokes up as she clenched her fists and tried to stop herself from moving against him. "A, a little softer there...may-maybe, a--"

She pushed her head back, a long groan tearing up her throat before she pressed her lips shut. "Fuck," he muttered, and pressed his face against her, his tongue rubbing, circling, dragging.

She was surprised the sheet wasn't ripping in the tightness of her fists, her skin overheated and her eyes wrinkled shut. His tongue would push a little too hard against her sensitivity a few times, but _this was good_. She didn't know how it didn't seem to bother him at all, or maybe it really didn't taste that bad, but _this was good_.

It wasn't until his tongue pushed _into_ her, _in, out, in_ , that she thought of what might be even better at that moment. She had been remembering the feel of him inside of her since the second he pulled away, and she felt oddly _empty_ now, his tongue not being enough of the feeling she wanted. She wanted that connection again, filled up, his face to her cheek, his body touching her. She suddenly felt detached through all the haze of that mounting ache, and she wanted him above her.

"Draco." She said his name twice, but it was the fist in his hair and the tug that pulled him back. She almost regretted it, taking a second to breathe, for the build to simmer.

"No?"

"No, I--" Her vision was a little blurry when she lifted her head to look at him, watching him wipe off the sheen around his mouth, and she blushed when his eyes met hers.

She didn't really know what to _say_ that wouldn't be embarrassing or weird, so she just put her hand out towards him - which might have also been weird. She had two seconds to feel incredibly distressed and silly, searching for words that didn't involve _sex, shag, inside me_ , when he eased her flustered state by taking her hand. She thought he was going to pull her up for a second, but he placed it on his shoulder as he leaned forward, moving up her body.

"Yeah," she whispered, and he smiled at her, which she might have taken offensively had she not been busy committing the shape to memory.

He lowered his head, pausing over her mouth as his eyes darted up to hers, and she realized that he must have tasted...like her. Her forehead wrinkled as she looked down at his lips, curious and apprehensive, and then tilted her chin up to kiss him. Pausing over her must have taken the last of his patience, and she was glad that the taste on his tongue wasn't too terrible when he dipped it into her mouth. It was still a very strange thing to _taste herself_ , but it wasn't really _gross_ like she thought it would be.

His tongue mimicked his earlier actions against hers, and then the ones he planned on, leaving her gasping when he pulled up a fraction. She could feel his knuckles brush her thigh, his exhale, and then the tip of him slide against her. He positioned himself, and she opened her eyes to his, holding her breath. She wanted to stay there, to look until her world was grey, but her eyes snapped shut at the snap of his hips, and they both choked on sound.

It felt better than it had the first time. Which made sense, if she really thought about it, but all she could _think_ about was how good it felt. She had told herself that she hadn't been missing out that much on the whole sex front, but _she had, she had_. The feel of him inside of her was incredible, like she might want to go on feeling him there constantly, filling her up, and-- She moaned when he started moving, his hand squeezing into her hip, and her legs lifting without thought to wrap around him. Wrap around him and pull him closer, deeper _,_ _there_ _._

Draco's mouth hit her cheek, and she heard something like _fuck, tight, wet, hot, hot, cush-tight_ , but her heart was hammering and her blood rush was making her head spin. She breathed his name into his ear, lifting her hips to the thrust of his, and he dragged his mouth to hers. Her fingers were trembling when she slid them into his hair, having been close to the edge before he even moved up her body, and now it felt like everything was shaking. Her heart, her legs, her breath, her blood, her bones. All shaking, and readjusting, and moving to fit around the sensation swelling inside of her.

He moved faster above her, skin slapping skin in time with the beats of her heart, the push of his tongue. She slid her arm around him, her palm between his shoulder blades, pulling him _closer, closer_. She wanted him to sink down into her skin, to join the shake of her bones, to feel that sensation taking shape, taking over. He groaned her name against her mouth, pressing kisses against her sweat-dampened cheek, and pushed his face to her neck.

She sucked in air down her dry throat, hoping the burn of it would completely set her on fire. _Oh, God, oh, God, so close_ , as she squeezed the back of his neck, the wet locks of his hair sticking between her fingers. She swallowed hard beneath the suction of his mouth, his rasp of words, and _soclosesoclosepleaseplease_. The tension drew in so tightly it hurt, her nails digging into his skin, her breath holding, her heart banging, _andandand_ \--

The sensation exploded, wild and out of control inside of her as she cried out, arching into him. The tension shot out of her pores, spinning her dizzy inside of it, until she knew nothing beyond how it felt. _Up, up, up_ , until she sunk back, collapsing to a heap of foggy satisfaction, the last of the sensation slow to leave.

She panted for breath, her arm slipping across Draco's back, her body fuzzy and her head heavy. It took her several seconds to notice that he wasn't moving, and that part of the reason it was so hard to breathe was because he was lying completely on top of her. He was sucking in air, his body moving against hers, and blowing it back out to her neck. She was about to wrap her arm around his shoulders better when he moved, rolling off of her and onto his back beside her.

She hadn't thought he finished. It must have been when she did, or a few seconds after. Thank God she had finally orgasmed when she did - she didn't know what she would have done if it had been over within that last ten seconds before she got there. She would have been forced to take matters into her own hands, because there was not a single way she could have just let that _fade_.

She waited until she caught her breath, listening to him catch his own, before she looked at him. There was a smile slowly forming on his mouth, and she watched it until he was grinning crookedly at the sky. If her heart skipped a little at the sight of it, she would never admit it. He turned his head to look at her, and the grin turned smug, his expression arrogant and satisfied. She realized that his smugness was because he had lasted until he got her to come, so she didn't mind it as much as she normally would. She might have even started smiling back a little, which did nothing to help his cockiness. God, if he ever managed to do it again, she was going to have to cut down half the forest just to fit his head through on the way home.

She reached up to grab the ring on his necklace, giving it a tug, which might have been too affectionate of her violence. She swallowed, turning her head to see where the end of the sheet was to cover herself, when his hand skimmed across her stomach. She looked over at him, her fingers stretching to find that edge, and he grabbed her hip to roll her onto her side. She glanced at him shyly before dropping her eyes to the ring, spinning it on the twine. She really wished that she--

His fingers skimmed over the curve of her hip, her waist, and back down again as he turned onto his side to face her. She lowered her forehead before she realized that he had been leaning his head down to kiss her, and she paused awkwardly with her head on his chest. Would she look stupid if she just brought her head up now? Maybe she should pretend she hadn't noticed the movement. Was it weird for her to put her forehead here? Maybe she could pretend she was-- She brought the ring closer to her face, pretending to be inspecting it very carefully, though she didn't think he had eyes in his chest that could see her wondering facial expressions. She saw his chest move as he exhaled a long breath, his fingers paused on her side. Maybe she should lif-- His hand pushed around to her back, and his chin brushed the top of her head.

She took a deep breath and reached out, sliding her arm around under his, and pushed her fingers into his back. She absently rubbed the tension along his spine, and he dragged her closer. She ignored the rocks that jabbed into her skin, and settled into him. This was definitely foreign territory, and a lot more difficult than just falling asleep like last time. It was just the afternoon now, though, and they had to start walking soon. She would need another bath before she went anywhere, too. But, maybe, for just a little while, she would stay right here, and count the beats of his heart against her forehead.


	32. Part Thirty-Two

**November 24; 1:10pm**

Hermione sniffed, tucking the book back into her bag after checking it again. She bumped into Draco's back, her nose crunching oddly, and made an annoyed sound before stepping around him. She didn't make it further than his side when she spotted the woman about seven meters from them. Hermione's heart jumped, and her eyebrows drew together at the way the woman was pounding on air. When she was confused, her eyes had a tendency to skip all over the place like they didn't know where to look. It made her vision blurry with how fast her eyes were darting, but she managed to see that the woman's mouth was open in a scream she couldn't hear, and that her face was blue.

Hermione jumped into a run the moment _she's trapped_ popped into her head, and she felt Draco's hand skim the fabric at the back of her shirt. The woman was crying when she ran closer, clutching her throat, her arm making wide swings back before slamming to a stop against the air. She was dying, Hermione knew, and she was almost there to try kicking in the trap from the outside, when Draco grabbed her around the waist.

Her momentum flung her against the barrier of his arms, pushing her stomach in and all of her air out. Her hair flew forward, and something yanked against her scalp as he pulled her back against him. She cried out at the pain, strands of her hair tearing out when she lifted her head, searching for the woman who...

"She's gone," Draco rushed. "It must have been an illusion to make us come in here. There's no one there."

She gasped out at the empty space, at the curls stuck straight into the air in front of her. Her adrenaline slowly decreased as it sunk in that there wasn't an actual person dying in front of her. She should have thought of that before she even started running, but all she had thought was how she needed to help her. Another two steps and she would have been trapped in whatever her hair was stuck in. Maybe whatever the illusion had shown.

She reached up to pull on the three locks of her hair when Draco carefully reached over her head with the dagger. "Hold still, or I'll fucking scalp you."

He was angry. He wasn't even _close_ to accidentally scalping her if she moved, and she knew the biting edge to his tone. There was no reason for him to be angry with her. What if that had _really_ been someone? And she just _stood_ there? It's not like she had put his life in jeopardy - well, their lives sort of depended on the other's for now, didn't it?

"I know it's your life on the line too, but I can't see someone dying like that and not do something about it."

There was a disbelief that edged around the slight narrowing of his eyes, his mouth opening to say something. He released a quick breath instead, glaring harder, and a sneer formed as he turned to walk away.

**6:12pm**

"That woman, and trapped in that space - it reminded me of the story. About the boy trapped in the bubble, who couldn't get out until someone else was there to take his place."

"Fascinating." He was still angry with her, apparently.

"I just wanted to thank you. For stopping me. I didn't think about it being a trap." She inspected her nails.

"My life is on the line, too," he drawled, his face stoic. "I... Well, all right. Thanks, anyway."  
He made a noise of aggravation.

**November 26; 7:30pm**

Hermione turned her head as she slanted the hunting knife, dropping the squirrel fur into the hole. She bent over to hit the bones inside before pushing the dirt back over. It wasn't the most appetizing thing to do before she was about to eat the meat that had come off of it, but she thought it was a show of respect towards something that was going to give them sustenance.

She walked back to the fire, watching Draco reach over the flames with her quill to turn the pieces of meat over. "You know what I was thinking?"

He blew out a heavy breath and rolled his eyes up to the dark sky. "Can you give me a category first?"

"Maybe the book we need is at this next location. It might not even be that boy in the bubble one." She sat down next to him, waiting for any input, but he didn't say anything. "Maybe it happens at the third place. The one without the symbol in the circle. That's the one that's different, so there must be something about the place."

"Maybe." She didn't really count that as input either.

"Draco, I think you're relying too much on the idea that we find it because we already--"

"I'm not fighting about this again."

"--changed it. You just don't seem like you're serious--"

"I don't-- It's my _life_ , how am I-- No. I'm _not_ going to argue about this, just so you--"

"I'm not trying to argue about it! I'm trying to discuss--"

"Discuss? You accuse me of shit, and you're just _discu_ \--" "I'm not accusing--"

"You just told me that--"

"Are we arguing about not arguing right now?" She was verifying, because she was pretty sure that was what they were doing.

His mouth clicked shut, and he shook his head before looking back at the tin. "Fucking infuriating."

She gave him a dirty look before looking at the flames, pulling her knees up to her chest. She poked another stick into the fire, her shoulder brushing against the tenseness in his. "I'm just worried."

"I know. You always turn into a nag when you're worried."

"That is _not_ \--"

"You can't do anything about it right now. So unless you want to die of anxiety before we even get there--"

"You're not worried?"

He pulled the tin off the fire, setting it between their shoes, and didn't answer.

**November 28; 11:39am**

She grabbed Draco's wrist before he put the water bottle in the stream, but he had already paused. They both watched the fish swim by them, though it wasn't _swimming_ so much as it was _gliding_. She waited for a flick of its fins, a blink, a breath, or for it to float to the top, but it just kept going.

Draco moved to cap the water bottle, pulling his wrist from her grip, and she hopped over the stream. "I would say it's a good thing we caught that, but I think we've learned the hard way."

"Story of my life," he muttered.

"See! And _I'm_ the one who brings the dangerous situations. _You're_ the bad luck!"

He glared at her. "I guess you ought to stay away from me then."

"Dangerous situations, remember?" She pointed at herself, and he huffed a laugh. "We make quite the deadly pair, you know."

"We make a horrible pair."

She hitched her bag over her other shoulder, glancing over at him. "We sort of balance one another out, I think. Some would say I have pretty good luck, and then with your...aversion to dangerous situations - we're sort of average."

"I wouldn't say average."

"Well, I don't think we're that terrible together."

He was looking at her - she could feel it. "No. Not terrible."

**November 29; 2:42am**

Hermione opened her eyes on a shiver, wrapping the sheet tighter around her. The weather still wasn't that cold on the island, but it dropped at night, and she always got colder when she was tired. It was like her body stopped producing as much heat.

She sniffed as she looked at Draco's face aimed towards her in the moonlight, and then down at the amount of space between them. She could probably just stick her forearm out and have her fingertips touch him, so if she moved a little closer, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Unless he didn't like to sleep with people touching him or something. She looked back up at his face, scooting herself closer, and he didn't even twitch.

Oh, this was a bit ridiculous, after everything. She had had the man... Well, it was ridiculous. If he didn't like her sleeping that close, then he could move back from her and she would know. And if he gave her a weird look in the morning, she would either act like it had happened in her sleep, or she would just tell him how cold she had been.

She moved closer to his warmth, greedy for it, and stopped when she was just a millimeter from touching him. She thought he might be cold too, with his arms crossed like that, and she moved her head down to see where the edge of the sheet was. She paused when he blew out a hard breath, and his hand moved up, pushing her hair into her face while he muttered about suffocation. He didn't move back at all, and she wondered if he was still asleep as she threw half of the sheet over him. Not that the sheet was very helpful for warmth, but it trapped the body heat in. She was just starting to come up with some rather wicked ideas for if he really did talk in his sleep, when his arm pushed around her and he closed the space between them. Her surprised eyes drifted shut in the cocoon of their warmth, and she was asleep before she could carry out any evil plans.

**November 30; 2:06pm**

Her head smacked into something too hard and rigid to be Draco's back, and she looked up from the book and to the trunk in front of her. She walked into a tree. _Brilliant_. That had to be _at least_ the tenth time in the past week. She was going to get brain damage. She would have some weird dent in her head that kids always wanted to poke, and she would be brain damaged. She would go around to schools as a Life Lesson, and talk about the dangers of reading while walking through the woods. And then she would forget her speech continuously, and it would be like those nightmares she used to have where everyone starts laughing. Or when she tried to explain things, and no one could ever understand, and she-- Draco walked past her, from where he had been _behind_ her, in full sight of her tree path walk.

"You couldn't warn--" She glared at the shaking in his shoulders from silent laughter, and started muttering angrily. "See if I kiss you again, Fish Boy. Rude little ferret. Just lets me..."

She continued muttering under her breath, rubbing her forehead as she stepped around the tree. She returned her attention to the book, scanning for where she was rereading. It snapped down a second later, a hand in her hair pulling her head back, and then he was kissing her. Her eyes fell shut as she stood stupidly for a few seconds, her breath rushing out. She returned his kiss, three movements of her mouth, and he pulled back from her. It took her a little too long to know why he was giving her a smug look.

"Hardly counted." She looked down at his mouth and glared. She couldn't do it again right now on principle. Prat.

"Mm."

**December 1; 11:01am**

She noticed that she couldn't exhale before she noticed she couldn't inhale, right before she walked into a wall. Her eyes snapped up to Draco's oblivious back, and she banged her fist forward. The air was as unmoving on the invisible wall as it was into or out of her mouth. It felt like someone had poured a block of cement into her throat, and she remembered the woman. She kicked forward on the wall, her lungs burning already, and panic seized her. What if the woman had been real? What if she would suffocate to death, and then just _disappear_? Maybe the ground would open-- _Okay, think, the story, the story, how do I get out?_

She looked up at Draco, but she was only slightly relieved to find him running back to her. She motioned for him not to touch the wall, shaking her head, pressing her palms flat to show him where it was. He came to a stop less than a meter in front of her, his eyes wide and his face pale. Her head was starting to spin from her lack of oxygen, and it felt like a weight was pressing down on top of her, but _the story, the stor--_

Draco had grabbed a stick off the ground, but she shook her head when his eyes met hers. _Bug_ , she mouthed, and his brow furrowed. She tried to swallow, pushing her hand against the wall to keep herself upright. She lifted her other hand, her eyes pleading with him to understand, and she bent her fingers, rolling them like a bug walking. His head pulled back and he spun in a full circle before he took off into the trees.

No matter how hard she tried to suck in air, it wouldn't come. Black was webbing the edges of her vision, and her dizzy head felt like it weighed more than her body. She pushed her forehead against the wall, trying to focus on the tips of her trainers, trying to be sure that she was right. She slid her hands along the wall, searching for any hint of an exit, and then it was gone. She stumbled forward, trying to pull in air twice before it finally shot through the clamping of her throat.

She thought it was her dizziness that was causing the sinking sensation, but then Draco grabbed her arm, wrenching her forward, and the ground was stable. She looked up at him in surprise, gasping for breath, and her back foot sunk down again.

"Run," she breathed, pushing him, and it never took him hearing it twice.

She could feel the ground start to cave out right before her back foot would lift, and she pounded harder, not daring to look behind her. Draco yelled a curse, and he must have felt it then too, grabbing her arm to pull her in a different direction. They shot through the trees, hoping that another box wouldn't take both of them, and didn't stop until long after they felt the last pull on their feet.

**December 2: 3:02am**

It was dark when she woke up, but she could still see Draco's throat in line with her sight. He must have lain down next to her last night, and she was almost certain it was his robe that was the added fabric on top of the sheet. The fact that she was happy he had decided to lay down by her was worrying. She had fallen asleep far too early last night, before Draco had even finished frying up the capers they had found, and she thought he would have kept distance when he went to sleep.

She wondered if it was strange that she was mentally tracing all the places where his body was connected to hers, and the weight of his arm around her waist. Not like she would ever tell anyone, and if someone were to see the lines of concentration of her face, she would tell them she was thinking of some random, obscure, back-of-the-library thing. But really, her mind was completely dedicated to the warmth and feel of him at that moment. It was for research purposes, really. Research on sleeping positions.

She pulled her head back to look at his face, and found that she had been using his arm as a pillow. She didn't think he could have managed to get it under there without her waking up, so it must have somehow happened during their Sleeping Positions - capitalized in her mind, as it was official research and all. Her movement didn't seem to wake him up, and his face was completely relaxed in sleep. She studied the lines of it - for Differences in Sleeping Position Proximity - carefully, as if she were trying to remember so she could draw him later.

She smirked when she remembered her idea that he might talk in his sleep, after all his suffocation muttering the other day, and gave him a look that would have likely had him rolling away if he was awake.

"Strawberries," she whispered as lowly as she could with the word still being understandable. His nose wrinkled up for a second, and she smirked. "Oranges."

His lips curled up into a grin that had her breath catching a little, her heart beating harder for four pounds. Yes - yes, that was definitely oranges. She rested her head against his arm, waiting for his grin to fade as she watched it.

"House-elves." She waited for the nose to wrinkle.

"Yum."

Her eyes shot open wide. "Yum?" she whispered harshly.

"Fry-up."

Her jaw dropped, and she had to work for calmness so her voice didn't get too loud. "You eat house-elves?"

He either said _arts_ or _hearts_ , and she jerked away from him. His forearm came up, his hand pressing to the back of her head to still her as he burst into hoarse, raspy laughter. She stared at him, her surprise doubling and her outrage fading as her eyes flicked between his two eyelids.

"I don't eat house-elf hearts, Granger. Too bitter for my taste."

She smacked him in his ribs, glaring at him when his eyes opened. "That is not funny! I--"

"Neither is you trying to get me to talk in my sleep. I might have been angry, had you not asked such ridiculous things, and then believed the more ridiculous answer."

She sniffed. "I wouldn't have asked anything personal. God, I can't believe you told me you eat house-elf--"

He smirked, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Try to get answers from me while I'm sleeping again, and I'll do it just for you."

"They weren't serious questions. They weren't even questions, really."

"Hence my warning, and not my anger." Well. Thankfully she hadn't gotten to _Hermione_ yet. "What were you asking next?"

"I was kind of going randomly. Maybe...coffee."

"Tea."

"Hmm. Sugar."

"And cream."

"Butterbeer."

"Firewhiskey."

"Hmm." She settled against him, moving her head to find a comfortable spot on his arm. "Butter."

"Jam."

"Kind."

"Depends on what I'm putting it on."

"But no strawberry."

"I do like one kind of strawberry, actually. I know, strange. It has a black lid, I don't know the name."

"Interesting. Muffins."

His cheek bunched and he hummed, looking out at the trees as he thought. She smiled as she watched him, lining up her next question.

**December 3; 4:28pm**

"What are you going to do when we get back home?"

He gave her a suspicious look, but she needed something to distract her from her mounting hunger. Living off a couple handfuls of capers a day was draining her body, and her stomach was constantly growling and nauseous. "I don't know."

"Returning to my job just feels strange after all of this. God, I'm going to have to tell this story a thousand times over. My job will-- Ron and Harry are going to be-- _My parents_... I'm sure yours are worried about you."

He shrugged. "They know I'm on a bit of a holiday."

She gave him a curious look, but he ignored it. She felt the fragile spots in the ground they stood upon together at the mention of his parents. She couldn't imagine going to visit him at his house. She would never forgive Lucius for the things he had done. She didn't believe for a second that he was _redeemed_. Sure, he was worried about Draco in the end, but where was he before that? Oh yeah, brainwashing him, and shaping him into being some mass murderer--

"You can stop thinking of my parents with that look on your face," he drawled.

"I don't... I'm not thinking about your mum."

He looked like he was going to get angry for a moment, and maybe he was, but then he might have remembered who she was, and the way she knew his father. He was thinking, his fingers stopping their taps on his bag, and she felt the space between them hollow out a little.

**December 4; 3:12pm**

She noticed Draco jerking back before she felt that the swing of her arm had stopped. Draco spun around in front of her, his wide eyes looking at her arm as she tried to tug it out. It refused to move, stuck in the wall, and he pushed on her hand like it was going to do anything but break her wrist. She caught his fingers to calm him down, looking at her bag as she dug into an old trail mix bag she had in the zipper.

She looked up at Draco when she pulled one of the worms out, squeezing his fingers to bring his eyes to hers. Ready? She didn't know why she mouthed it, but he nodded all the same, his expression pulled into disbelief instead of panic now. She tossed the worm near his feet, panicking for five seconds, and then the wall broke.

He kept his grip on her hand as he leaped out, and they both took off running before the caving ground could catch up to them. "Do I want to know why you're _carrying worms_?"

"Preparation is key." She glanced over her shoulder, the ground looking normal, but she knew it was like that hole Draco had fallen down. Only _growing_ , and chasing after their footfalls. "My arm was caught. That just saved your life."

"It's still weird that you're carrying about sacrificial worms, Granger."

"What do you think I'm lugging you around for? Enjoyment?" She huffed, and went to smirk at the scowl she was sure to receive, but it was him who smirked first. She rolled her eyes, turning her head away in hopes that he wouldn't see the red on her face.

**6:10pm**

Hermione landed on top of the rabbit, her knees thudding painfully on the ground. It tried to wiggle out of her grip and she held it tighter. Draco panted with a nod, holding out his dagger. She looked at the shine of the blade, feeling the rabbit wiggle soft and warm in the cage of her arms. She slowly raised her eyes to his, and he seemed to know everything she was thinking of saying just by her face. If she stopped to think about it, it might have scared her.

He flipped the dagger in the air, grabbing the handle, and reached under her to get a grip on the animal. "We're starving, and you can't kill a rabbit."

"It's..." His face set in harder lines as he squatted down, pushing the rabbit to the ground. She knew he hated to do it too, but one wiggling attempt for escape and she realized that she could go another day without food if she had to.

She turned her head when the rabbit made a strange sound, and she scrunched her eyes shut at the dagger cutting into it. Draco released a breath like he was just kicked in the lungs, and she took a deep breath at the sudden increase to her nausea. She wanted to walk away, to get away from the _sounds_ as he started to get the meat off, but she thought it was only fair if she at least stood there. If she put up with at least that much, when he had to do the rest.

"Eventually, you're going to look around at the world in which you tried to save everything, and you had better hope someone is there to save you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She still had her eyes shut, her face turned away.

"It means you kill the fucking rabbit."

**December 5; 12:23pm**

She had thought that bathing in the bikini was perfectly acceptable, until Draco decided to strip before he got in. His naked bum was only about a meter from her, and when she had stared too long, karma repaid her with shampoo dripping into her eye. It wasn't _her fault_ \-- he was the one who decided to get naked, and his bum happened to be the only part of him she hadn't got a peak at yet. He also happened to have a rather nice one, which made it even more difficult, and it was fate's fault for them being in a river shallow enough to only reach his thighs.

She felt absurd in her bathing suit, especially when he seemed so comfortable being nude, but she wasn't sure if it would be worse to be standing there naked as well. She was almost done at this point, so there really was no reason to just take her clothes off. Judging by the looks Draco kept sending her, he seemed to disagree.

She splashed water up at herself to wash off the soap, and started to laugh. She glanced over at him, which was dangerous since he was facing her now, and she had to focus a lot of will power on staying connected to his eyes. It would be beyond embarrassing if he caught her gaping at him.

"What are you laughing about, Granger?"

She shook her head, because she really wasn't laughing at anything but her own awkward feelings. "I don't know."

"Is this like when you told me there was a bug on me, or like when you call me _Mister Skelefeet_ under you breath and think I don't hear it?"

"You hear that?" she asked in a small voice, and his eyebrow raised. "Well, it depends completely on your interpretation of my laughter in those situations. God knows what you've concluded in your twisted little mind."

" _Little_ mind?"

She blinked at him, then laughed at his lack of denial over the twisted part, and he smirked. "No, no. You stay over there."

"What if I don't want to stay over here?" he whispered, his voice smooth and dark, and she thought that maybe he shouldn't then.

"You have to. We're supposed to be walking more today, and then we'll need another bath, and last time we got less than a mile--" She swallowed as he stopped in front of her. "I've read that an erection, in cold water--" _What? Jesus, Hermione_.

He grinned wickedly. "Dirty mind, Granger. Tell--"

Both their heads snapped to the crack of sound in the trees, and Hermione's eyes darted to their bags. They both took off running for them, jumping onto the riverbank. Draco was scrambling with his clothes behind her, and she clutched her bag to her stomach, her fingers on the handle of the hunting knife.

There were a series of cracking and rustling sounds that grew distant, but she couldn't see anything through the trees. She didn't know if they had ever encountered any animals that made that much noise - besides the beast that was a whole lot louder than that. "Animal?"

They were both silent for several seconds, and she heard Draco drop his bag. "Maybe."

**December 6; 7:01am**

“-- _believe you_! How hard is it--"

"--forty minutes of a backtrack is not good enough to be _this pissed_ \--"

"--forgot the book! You just left it laying there, and--"

"It's not like I did it on purpose! It was dark when we left--"

"Who cares! You don't forget your bag, do you? You don't--"

"--to go the whole-- My bag is familiar, it's not easy to forget it when it holds--"

"--binoculars, your shavers, shampoo, your toothbrush, the dagger--"

"--so I forgot something, one fucking time--"

"--the map, which is _also_ vitally important. But the _book_ \--"

"--dead because I left it laying there for _forty minutes_ , an hour and a half _max_ by the time--"

"--it seriously, when it's not an adamant part of your thought processes that that book--"

"Here we fucking go. _Again_. I was tired, it was dark, and then I remembered! I am so sick

"--never again. It will stay in _my_ bag, where it is _safe_ from _your carelessness_!"

“-- _anal bitch_ about--"

"Don't call me that!"

"I'll ca-- You're going in the wrong direction! Hey, _brains_ , or did you forget you had those as well as which way to go?"

" _I'm not the one with the memory problem!_ _"_

"--walking away, like you did _last time_ , and the time _before_ , instead of--"

"--don't want to see your _face right now_!"

"You don't have a--"

"...These are my tears of _anger_. They are not...not because I am... _Tears of anger_!"

"Shit."

"What?"

"Don't..."

"Tears of--"

"Anger, yeah, I know. Let's just-- I'll go get the book, all right? Just... I'll get it."

"Fine."

"...You don't have to come."

"I know."

**5:56pm**

The thunder of the beast sounded like it was right on top of them. It had started in the distance when they began to run, but it had been faster than them this time. Hermione knew they couldn't outrun it - not when it had gained all that ground so quickly. They had no room for slower, shorter legs, or hope to find some sort of shelter. In the next few seconds, the beast would be on top of them. It would probably rip their heads off before they could even turn to face it.

Hermione pulled out the hunting knife with a shaking in her chest that was not just from the hard vibrations of the ground. Draco's eyes caught the movement, and he turned a terrified expression to her. She was sure it matched her own.

"You can't kill a fucking _rabbit_ \--"

"Can't run this time, Draco. Remember what--"

"Oh, running is--"

"Remember what I said! About going for the stomach! It's the weakest--"

"I _refuse_ not to try and outrun this thing! There's not a single way--"

"Fine," she whispered, and she didn't think he could hear her over the sound of the beast when she couldn't hear herself.

"You're coming with--" he cut off when she started to pound her feet even harder, pushing herself as hard as she had ever run before.

She just needed a little distance. Just a little space so she could turn around, and have some room to breathe. She knew Draco thought she was just trying to outrun it again, and if he kept going - well, she didn't have a choice. It was going to get them either way this time, but at least fighting gave her a chance. At least she'll know she took it.

Her feet skidded out across the ground as she whipped around, her arm flailing for balance, and she heard the faint sound of Draco screaming profanities. She sucked in breath so hard and quick that she choke-coughed on it, and the beast slowed its run ahead of her. It was even more massive than the skeleton had suggested, towering over her. Her head was in line with its shoulder, and its body looked about two meters wide. It was shining black, the eyes as dark as the rest of it, except for the yellow in the sharp rows of its teeth.

She had time for two breaths before the beast reached her, its paw drawing up, and back, back. She dove to the ground as it swiped across where she had been, the claws slamming into the trunk of a tree. The beast roared as something cracked, hot air blowing her hair back. She could hear the tree splintering and snapping as she rushed to her feet, sprinting to the other side of the beast. She heard its paw come down behind her, tearing ground out from under the end of her trainers, and dirt sprayed up against her back. She heard the tree crash, the ground vibrating under her feet. She flung herself backwards to the ground when jaws bigger than her head snapped towards her, and she rolled away from them, scrambling to her feet.

She drew the blade back, swiping it at the animal's face. It roared again as she felt the edge sink through fur and into skin, pulling back on its hind legs. She ran towards the side of it, needing to get under it without it falling on top of her. It wasn't until it rose up that she saw a flash of Draco's hair on the front right side. The legs came down to vibrate the earth before she could see his face. She stabbed the back of the leg in front of her, and it pulled away, soaring through the air towards...

"Draco!" she screamed, and she heard a crack of sound that had her heart shooting up to her throat.

She stabbed the beast as hard as she could in the ribs, drawing the attention of its jaws away from Draco's direction. Its head jerked towards her as she stabbed it again, again, _againagain_. Its leg came back, the body turning, and she had to leap back to avoid the claws that almost took out her legs. They left deep grooves in the earth, filling with blood, and her stomach turned violently.

_Oh, God, Draco,_ _DracoDracoDraco_ , and she ran with the beast as it turned, using its size to her advantage. She slashed its leg four times before it lifted it away from her, its teeth snapping close enough for her to feel the saliva hit her arm. As soon as the leg moved, she ducked under, thrusting the knife up into its gut. She grabbed the handle with both hands, her arms shaking with the strength it took, yelling as she ripped the blade back. Blood dropped in sheets to the front of her shirt, her arms, and in front of her, splashing up into her jeans. The beast roared loud enough to shake her entire body, drawing back on its hind legs, and Hermione bolted out from under it.

It landed with a crash, and she drew the knife back again as the beast's growl turned into another roar of sound. She slashed the knife towards it, and it cut across its side as the animal jerked forward. Blood spurted out over her arms, and then the beast was running, the legs gaining momentum as thunder took over the forest again. She barely looked at its retreat, her eyes searching, darting, and... Draco stood across from her, his face as white as his eyeballs, his bloodied arm cradled to his chest. His hand was shaking at his side, the dagger as blood-soaked as his arms, and there was shock in his eyes when he stared back at her.

She ran forward, the hunting knife falling from her hand, and her eyes covered with a sheen of tears. When she had heard that crack, and then the blood, and the blood. "Are you all right? It hit you, didn't it? Was it the--"

"Don't. _Ever_. Do that. To me. _Again_."

"Okay." She nodded. "Okay. Just tell me--"

"My arm is broken. Are you--"

"I'm fine. Not a-- I'm fine." She spun around, still shaking from the adrenaline, the fear _,_ _the thought_ of what had happened to him.

She found her bag two meters away, her feet slipping in the carnage of a shampoo bottle, and ripped the sheet from the bag. She dug around, getting blood on too many things, and pulled out a water bottle and the small bottle of pain medication they had bought. She ran back to him, setting the bottles on the ground, and bounced out the sheet. She quickly folded it, stepping closer to him, and held out the middle section.

"Put your arm in that."

She heard him swallow, watching the hiss and moan of pain as he moved his arm into the sling. She looked at it carefully, making sure none of the bones were protruding. They would have to go back to a village for that, damn the questions or time. She reached up to put the end around his neck, and he bent his head, meeting her eyes through his fringe. She leaned forward out of instinct, out of need, and kissed him. Soft, gentle as she double knotted the makeshift sling.

"I thought...when it swiped out..." The tears were back, foggier and rimming wetly, and his eyes flicked between hers.

She shook her head with a choked attempt at laughter. She bent down to pick up the bottles, something to hide her face, when he grabbed her arm with his good hand. He pulled her from her half-hunch, and kissed her. A press of his lips, and he drew back to look at her. She reached up to push his hair back, and remembered that her hands were stained with the beast's blood, dropping them back to her sides. She studied the grey, and he bent his head to kiss her again, slow, soft. Comfort, comforting to her trembling bones. _I'm alive_ , it said. _We're all right_.

"Next time," he whispered, "we run."

"You and your running." She pushed her forehead to his cheek, peeking in at his arm again.

"You and your not-so-brilliant staying."


	33. Part Thirty-Three

**December 7; 8:19am**

He was glaring at her from the pain in his arm, sitting back against the trunk of a tree, a dark look on his face. She had made the mistake of telling him she hadstabbed its leg before it swiped out at _him_. She had pointed out that it was his own stabbing that made it swing to him, but he decided to blame her. He was angry about her staying, too, and maybe the look on her face when she had said _you stayed_ , because it looked a bit like wonder and surprise. She hadn't really given him a choice, b _had one_. The beast was closing in, and their only option left was to fight it. She had tried to explain that to him, but he didn't want to listen to her right now - he probably wouldn't until the pain faded a little more.

She wondered if he had stayed because of how he needed her for the end, and they had a better chance with two. If he stayed because it was his life too, or because it was hers in that moment. She knew how much he hated any situation that might put his life in danger, but she knew that - when even given a chance - he was willing to go through it for the people he... She shook her head. It had just scared her - her reaction when she thought he was... She couldn't even think it. She couldn't even say the words inside her head, that was how much it scared her. And she hadn't thought a single thing about the spell, about needing him for that. All she thought about was _him_ , and gone, and... She shook her head again.

They had washed up with the water bottles, leaving them with only one and a half bottles of water, but they should be reaching a main river soon. Their food supply was limited to capers and the bad peach in her bag, so the hunting would fall to her now. He looked smug about it at first, but when she started to gnaw her lip, he grew increasingly worried. _If you can attack a fucking_ _beast_ _, you can kill a rabbit to feed us_. She knew she _could_ , she just wasn't sure how hungry she was going to be after.

"If your arm starts hurting, and you need to take a break from--" She looked behind her at the rustling sound, more pronounced than the smaller animals and birds they were used to.

Draco got to his feet, walking quickly to his bag. "If that thing is following us--"

"It makes a lot more noise than that, and you know it."

"--pissed it off, and now it's going to come back with a--"

"I don't think it will be back. If it didn't die, it'll try to heal first."

"Wonderful. Really looking forward to the reunion. Perhaps you can just throw me _under_ \--"

"Sounds like a fantastic plan, Draco. I'll just shove you right under there when it--"

"--recognizes you as a small animal from your hair, and--"

"--breaks your other arm, or _worse_ , you can blame me for that--"

"--to the end of it, and let it drag you through the forest. You know how much it likes smashing into trees and--"

"--rips your tongue straight out of your mouth--"

**December 8; 2:20pm**

"You're a lot better at tearing apart confidence than building it."

"Thank you."

"And it's a little different when it's not threatening to take my life away!"

"If you don't eat, you're going to starve. You already killed it, just cut it right down the middle now. You have to cut the-- If you vomit on it, you're just going to have to kill another one."

Hermione pushed her mouth and nose into the crook of her arm, looking away from the squirrel and up to Draco. She thought she should have read up on how to hunt and this whole process, but she still didn't think it would have helped her much. "I don't know how you did this."

His jaw clenched. "Because I had to. It's the circle of life, Granger. We're bigger, we're hungry, we eat. There's no other food, and _we_ _don't have a choice_. Know you like that reasoning."

She glared at him, and her stomach turned as the knife cut through the stomach. "Oh, God, Draco."

He was silent for a second, and then he muttered something she couldn't hear, squatting down next to her. "Stop looking at it like a squirrel, and start looking at it as food. Hold it open...give me that...just push it down right there."

She watched his face as he sliced, and then took a deep breath of the sweet, rancid air, and looked down at the squirrel so she could remember for next time.

**December 9; 7:11am**

Hermione looked up in confusion, her hand pausing before she settled the bag on her shoulder. There was a weird little sound coming through the trees on her right, like growling, or... Draco's shoulder brushed hers when he stepped up beside her, lowering the water bottle as he swallowed the pain pills. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together, his tongue pressing into his cheek, and she knew he was thinking the same thing as her.

"Is that snoring?"

"I...maybe," Hermione whispered, looking around them to make sure they had everything. "Maybe we should go check it out. If it's a person, or some... It will be a lot better for us to find it sleeping than for it to find us."

He didn't look too happy about the idea, but he stepped forward before she did. They worked their way carefully and slowly through the trees, avoiding any twigs or scuffing their shoes on rocks and roots. They grew closer to the noise, Hermione sticking her hand into her bag and resting it on the handle of the hunting knife. The closer they got, the more it sounded like snoring, and she was positive it was a person before they even saw the two men laying on the ground.

One was an average build, but he looked at least a couple inches taller than Draco, which meant he was obnoxiously tall to Hermione. The other was more plump and about her height. The only thing they had with them was a bag, shoved between them, and their clothes looked like they had been in them for some time now.

Draco and Hermione stood silently, but they must have felt their eyes on them, because she was pretty certain that the tall one got to his feet before he even looked at them. Her fingers wrapped around the handle, but she didn't pull it out yet. She didn't know if they were past a magical wall right now, which meant they could have been camping or lost Muggles. She wasn't going to decide right now, but she was very careful - she hadn't met a person outside of the villages that could be trusted, and it usually went bad for her.

The movements of the tall one woke up the other man, and he took one look at them before rushing to his feet. Hermione waited for them to draw a knife, to attack, but they just stood there with their hands up. She glanced to see if her knife was showing, and then found the dagger in Draco's hand at his side.

"Hello," Hermione greeted, ignoring the incredulous look that Draco gave her.

"We're not here to hurt or bother anyone," the smaller one said, and it took her until the fifth word to place the accent as Russian. "We're just looking for a friend."

"They disappeared on some treasure hunt," the tall one rushed. "We've been looking to find them for a week. Took a helicopter to this island, since it was the one they mentioned. Have a few people searching on the other end."

Hermione's eyebrows pulled together. "A treasure hunt?"

"Yes, some lost Roman jewels or such. Talked about it for years."

They all stared at one another for several seconds. Hermione didn't believe a word of it. The bigger man smiled, waving his hands. "We're okay here?"

"I don't know," Draco drawled. "We're awfully hungry."

Hermione shot him a look, and the tall man stepped back. "Haven't had anything to eat ourselves," the bigger man said, his faltered smile beaming again.

Draco narrowed his eyes, and Hermione reached out to grab the back of his shirt. She tugged on it once, and left it in her fist. "Good luck with finding food, then. And your friend."

"You too."

Draco was giving her a look that was clearly asking if she was insane, and demanding they do a lot more than that. Hermione gave him a look that clearly said it wasn't the time, don't make this a problem, walk away. Except it wasn't that clear at all, because they ignored the other's meaning, and there was a lot of flashing eyes and waving eyebrows. He followed her, though, back the way they had come, and left the men staring after them.

For all they knew, the men weren't bad people. What were they supposed to do, _stab them_? It was best to get as far ahead of them as possible, and take care of the problem when it became one. She wasn't going to tie them up and drag them behind them.

"They're after Floralis," Draco hissed. "We have to hurry."

**December 10; 6:25am**

"Granger." Something shifted under her, and fingers rolled a tap across her shoulder blade. "Granger."

"No."

"We have to go."

"We just went to sleep." She still didn't open her eyes, feeling him move with a heavy breath against the side of her face. They must have switched Sleeping Positions last night - really, _this morning_ \-- since she hadn't fallen asleep with her head on his chest. This was nice, though. Nice, warm, and she was _so tired_ _._

"Not just. We have to gain more ground. If they know where the place is, we need to get there before them. If they don't, we don't need them following u--"

"Talk too much."

He huffed a laugh, his chest jolting with the movement. "Are we feeling extra hyp--"

"Still talking."

"Is the grass greener?"

"Mm." She smiled. "Now shut up, Malfoy, before my brain starts to bleed. I'll cut off your hair and trick the animals with it, so maybe we can eat without you having a panic attack."

He snorted. "Listen, Hermione, I have to talk in order to destroy the humanity in people, so that way there's always something for me to save. There's something about people crying at the sound of my continuous chatter that just gets me--"

"I don't believe that sounds like me. At all."

"--couldn't possibly stop, even if you ripped out my vocal chords. I have so much more knowledge than anyone else because of the books I let take up my not-heroic time--"

"You fail at role reversal."

"--and I think the color blue is actually proven to be more depressing than the color black, so I guess that's why you like the color blue, Hermione. You know, you don't have to be--"

" _All right_. I'm getting up."

His fingers tapped against the back of her shoulder seven times, and she finally lifted her head when he pulled in a breath to start talking again. Her eyeballs were burning, her limbs felt like they were coated in lead, and her head must have been stuffed with cotton balls. One of the last things she wanted to do at the moment was _move_.

She shivered when she pulled away from him, the cold seeping in to the places that had been comfortably warm in their body heat before. She pulled the sheet around her, frowning as she stood. She turned to look for her bag, and felt something heavy hit the top of her head. Draco's scent swung up around her, and she grabbed the edges of his robe.

"You're not cold?"

"I'm letting you warm it up first. Whatever gets you moving with the least amount of bitching--"

"You are such a git."

"It's a talent."

"Gotta have something. You are the only person I know who is somehow _rudely nice_."

"I am not nice."

"Rudely, I said."

He scowled at her.

**3:03pm**

Draco sniffed in the way that made her lean back from him a little, because she wasn't about to get sick from the start of his. He gave her a dirty look when he noticed it, and set the tin between them. "At least you managed it."

"I can manage to do a lot of things I don't want to do."

"Are you going to eat?" He looked at her in her silence, and she pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to forget the mental images of cutting up the rabbit. "You will later."

**December 11; 1:10pm**

They were both miserable, but Draco was worse. Between the weather, the lack of decent food, his broken arm, and his cold, he was reduced to staring gloomily at things or snapping at her for the way the wind blew her hair - or something equally inane. Reaching the river had been a bright point, but it was dimmed by the lack of any change in the book and both their bad moods. At least she had managed to make him some herbal tea for his cold - but approaching him with her hand over her mouth like he was spreading deadly diseases had not earned her a thank you.

"I caught a fish. A big, silver one." She grinned a little too maniacally at the pieces of fish she plopped into the tin. He didn't seem to remember her past challenges with a certain silver fish by the look on his face, and she pretended it wasn't silly to imagine that this was the same one.

"I don't understand how you're not sick right now."

"I have a tough immune system." She had also been doing the hand thing behind his back since yesterday, and last night she had made sure to sleep with her back to him.

"Of course you do." He sounded bitter.

"Just keep your robe on, spit out anything that comes up, and keep drinking your tea. You'll be fine by tomorrow." Big baby.

"You deal with a cold, a broken arm, and constant pain every time you move," he snapped.

 _Oh_. Big baby had been out loud, hadn't it? "I said big belly. I'm going to have a big belly after I eat this fish. Because...it's so big." _Smooth_ , as Ron would say.

He took a deep inhale like he needed to really _breathe_ to deal with her, phlegm cracking in his chest. He coughed over the exhale, and she felt more guilty for her baby comment. He looked at her like _see_ _what you've done_? and her comment was the reason he was having a coughing fit.

"Take a sip of the tea."

He said something very angrily that she couldn't make out through all his hacking, his face turning bright red. "Stay over-- there."

"I just--"

"--back like-- child-- feel guilty-- dying." Big. Baby.

**December 12; 8:33am**

She was glad she had opted for the bathing suit since the way Draco was staring at her now would have been even more distracting and embarrassing had she been naked. It was worse when he was just standing there at the riverbank, having already bathed when she had been sleeping. But if she was glad she wore a bathing suit because of the staring, she was ecstatic about it when the crack sounded from the trees.

Both their heads jerked towards the sound, and it took three of her quickening heartbeats before someone stepped out. She didn't even bother washing the soap off her arms when she sprinted towards the riverbank, Draco snatching up his bag. The rounder man appeared beside the tall one, smiling like he had been the last time they had seen them. Hermione tried to slow her steps so she didn't appear too crazed and set the strangers off, but she still walked quickly towards her bag at Draco's feet. She covered her chest with an arm, keeping herself in line with Draco's back so the men in front of him were less likely to make out that much of her.

Draco's hand moved behind him before there was less than a meter between them, and she took the robe in his fist with appreciation. She buttoned it around her quickly, her fingers shaking with the cold and adrenaline.

"We didn't know she was washing. Apologies for that."

"Really."

"We weren't trying to look at your girl, a--" She caught a glimpse of the men as she bent down under Draco's arm to grab her bag, and saw the smiling guy shut up the tall one with a brief look.

"Why would you think she was mine?" Draco's voice had a curious, dark undertone, and his body took on the stiffness of its robot form.

It was a good question, despite feeling a bit objectified at the moment. Either they had assumed it for some reason, or they had seen something that made them think so. Which further proved they were following them, or that they were also headed to the symbol and kept finding them. They had been sleeping awfully close to them that first time, and she wasn't even sure if it was the first time - they had been hearing strange noises for days before that. Maybe it wasn't a baseless assumption...maybe they had seen them kiss, or had seen how closely they slept. The last possibility might have been worse than the others. They were too vulnerable in sleep, so if someone had been watching them...

The shorter one pushed out his lips, his palms held up by his shoulders. "Guy, girl, camping."

Hermione paused in pulling the hunting knife to the top of her bag, staring down at the peach. It was the one she had put in her bag while she had taken a bite out of the other, right before her legs stopped worked properly. She had been planning on studying it when she got home, but...

She pulled her bag over her shoulder as she stepped up beside Draco, smiling at the men. "It's all right. Just a surprise."

"Good." The short one smiled.

"Have any luck on finding food?"

"Eh, here, there. Animals. Maybe some fish now, after a wash."

Hermione nodded, stretching her lips, and didn't look up at Draco despite his eyes currently burning into her head. "I found some peaches last night, over that way. You can have one if you want."

She pulled it out of her bag, the magic in it keeping it perfectly preserved. She held it out to them, and the tall one shook his head. "Not hungry."

"You can--"

"Sure," the other one cut in. "I'm Valencia."

"Jean," Hermione told him, dropping the peach into his hand. She wasn't too sure Valencia was even a Russian name, and she didn't think she was the only one who gave a fake one. "Perhaps your friend went to one of the other islands."

"Maybe. We'll check this one first." He bit into the peach, and Hermione tried not to look like she was staring and waiting for something. If they were truly Muggles, there would be no reaction. If they weren't, it wouldn't kill him and it would slow the men down for a day.

"How's your arm?" she whispered to Draco, keeping her face passive as she looked at him. She wanted to make sure he was on the same page, in case the figure showed up when the fruit was eaten.

He had the faintest curl to his lips, and she was guessing he was rather proud of her Slytherin tactics. "Fine."

"Had a fall?" Valencia asked.

The curl disappeared as Draco turned his head to look over at him, and Hermione watched the man take the fourth bite from the peach. "Yes."

"We should be going."

"Done washing?"

"Yes." She looked over at Draco as he said it at the same time as her.

Valencia nodded, taking a step to toss the rest of the peach in the woods. His face was turned so she couldn't see his expression, but he stepped normally and there was no sound. "Take care."

Hermione nodded, turning with Draco as they started further along the river. It was the wrong direction, but they would switch later when they were out of sight.

**11:50pm**

"Maybe they aren't. Draco, he had _no_ reaction. He would have had a reaction if he was after the plant, and, or, a wizard - we haven't figured that bit out."

Draco looked back over their shoulders before leaning his head towards her. "The magic might only stay in the fruit a short time after it's picked."

"Then why has it not rotted in my bag?"

"He could have expected it. That other one said no pretty quickly for people with a shortage of food--"

"Not trusting strangers. And with good rea--"

"He could have known he had to prove something, that we wanted to see if he would react. Probably thought we wouldn't expect them to be after the plant if he had no reaction. He wanted _this_ , your _doubt_."

"I'm just saying that--"

"He took a step - if he encountered it before, and knew about it, then he would have been prepared to pretend for one--"

"Why didn't the thing show up? The black figure, with the arms, why didn't it--"

"You said yourself that it probably only stays in that area where the fruit grows. The person who put the magic there didn't expect anyone to carry the fruit out, so--"

"Oh, _now_ you believe my theory, when it fits your own!"

"Sh." He glanced over their shoulders again. "They were sleeping meters from us. Looking for a friend who was after treasure? _Come on_ , Granger. They fed us that like they were reading from note cards. And then they just show up at the river, after we walked--"

"I know it's all very suspicious, I'm--"

"--let your guard down, and now you are. What--"

"I'm not letting my guard down! I still say we keep walking fast, and that we keep checking to make sure they aren't following us. I'm just saying that we shouldn't make ourselves suspicious, or act rashly."

He shook his head, and they both looked behind them again.

**December 14; 2:46pm**

Draco pulled up short in front of her, and she watched his back slam against air. He turned around, scanning the space in front of him, a look of complete panic on his face. She tried to give him a look that told him to calm down, but he wasn't looking at her. She saw his mouth open as she dug into her bag, and his lips formed _Granger, Granger_. He had absolutely no patience - he knew she carried the worms with her for this very thing, and--

Hermione's head jerked up when his clothes disappeared from the top of her vision. The worm dangled between her fingers as her eyes widened in surprise, watching him take off. "Draco? Draco!"

She couldn't hear him running, and he didn't even glance back at her. She threw the worm in, but he just kept getting further away, silently. She stuck out her foot, seeing if it got stuck in the air, but hit the invisible wall instead. Her arm had got stuck the last time, so this...this wasn't the same thing. Her eyes flashed up to Draco's distancing back, and she leaped forward into a run, chasing after him.

"Draco!" she yelled, reaching out to bang on the wall.

He didn't hear her, just kept -- what was he running from? He hadn't been looking at her when his mouth formed her name, so maybe he hadn't seen her. Was it like the other boxes in there? Could he _breathe_? Was he seeing something, as invisible to her as she was to him?

Jesus, why did he have to run so fast? The man was a professional. Not usually facing up to the things that scared him apparently paid off in leg strength. With his early start, her shorter legs, and the trees in her way, she lost him easily. She had to feel for the hardness of the wall in order to follow his direction, slamming her hand into it to try breaking it without slowing down.

Following the direction it went was not likely going to amount to anything good for him. Especially if there was some illusion in there that was forcing him to run that way. She hoped it was just illusions, anyway - it might have been something seriously dangerous that she just couldn't see. Unless it was some sort of sick test to reach the exit at the other side before he passed out from lack of oxygen.

Her palm was stinging, and pain shot down her wrist and across her knuckles every time she slammed it against the wall, but she didn't stop. Every hit of her foot against the ground sent a spasm of pain up to her knee, her body weaker from her diet and protesting the sprint. She would be surprised if things weren't falling out of her bag with how hard it was jostling, but her heart was pumping harder. She was more worried about Draco than herself, though, and she kept searching past the wall for any sight of him.

She didn't seem him until he was leaping over the edge of a cliff. She burst through the trees on a scream, and he sailed out into the air with his arms flying out. He was gone from her sight in a second, and she skidded to a stop three steps from the edge. She took two forward, her heart beating so hard it was trembling the vision of her unblinking eyes. She only managed to breathe when she saw him plummet into water, but her breath stopped again when he didn't come up. She took off around the cliff edge, down the slope, dropping her bag from her shoulder to speed her up. She would have jumped, but she didn't know how deep the water was. Maybe he had only broken his legs or something. Maybe he was just having some trouble swimming up. Or maybe the magic had closed in, and that wall now covered the top of the giant lake.

 _No, no, no, no, no_ _._ She knew it couldn't have led to anywhere good. Why had he followed it? They could have figured out a different escape. She looked through the trees that flew by her, trying to get a glimpse at the water, desperate for the sight of blond hair above the surface. Her heart skipped when she saw it, or maybe just a flash of sunlight reflecting off the water, and she jumped from the edge of the slope when the drop was less than five meters. Her legs kicked three times, her arms spun four, and she was sailing down as the water rushed up. She opened her eyes to the murkiness, her knees bending as her feet touched ground, and she shoved herself back up to the surface.

She saw Draco standing in the water to his waist, paused and staring back at her, and she sucked in a breath that was half stagnant lake. Her eyes flashed down his body, up, down, and then met his eyes again. Her heart still hadn't calmed down, but for a different reason now.

"You--"

"Any more of those pain pills?" His voice was tight, and she scanned him again. "My arm."

Her head fell back as she breathed, treading water, and looked up at the sky. _God_ , she couldn't take this anymore. He was going to kill her. This was going to kill her. She would be running, and then her body would start falling and sliding apart. Or her heart would just explode into pieces in a wrecked chest cavity. "They're on the hill. What happened?"

She started towards him, willing herself to calm down. He was there, he was fine, it was over. "I don't know. It was like a...house. There were those things, those Bills. I started running - thought it Apparated me, or I fell down another hole. Wasn't going to risk stopping if it was an illusion."

She nodded, her legs tired when she tried to get them to stand and do hard things like walk. He was still standing in the water, catching his breath, staring up at the cliff. "It broke when you fell into the water?"

"Not at first."

"How did it break then?"

He shrugged the shoulder of his unbroken arm. "I don't know. I probably lost some things from my bag, though. Ripped my necklace off on accident. I have the map in the zip."

She watched him spin the ring between his thumb and forefinger, looking down at the broken twine. "We'll check the map, make sure it didn't wash it out. I'll get the bag, so...you...huh."

"What?"

He looked down at the necklace when her eyes didn't lift from it, and she reached out to take his hand, pushing her palm to his. "Draco...?"

"You're--"

"Where did you get that necklace?"

"Got the ring from the lake, actually." He was smirking - she could hear it. She was far too distracted by the turning of her mind, though, trying to think, to remember. If this was it, then it must have some sort of connection, and some sort of prot--... Had it had any?

"What lake?"

"Devil's Throat. In the cave." Her mouth dropped as she looked up at him. "Didn't find anything there yourself, hm?"

She dropped her eyes from his smugness and back to their hands. "You..."

"This isn't one of those things like with the map, is it? The ring doesn't matter, it doesn't mean anything." He sounded incredibly tired now.

"I beg to differ!" she yelled, and he jerked back when she reached for his bag. "Do you have it?"

"Have _what_? Are you--"

"The figurine! The wooden figurine, Draco!" He looked lost, his eyes tracking the outrage, shock, and excitement on her face before he studied their joined hands. "Do you--"

"You have to be kidding me. Granger, that little thing hanging between our hands could be _anything_. There was a line around our--"

"No! No, no, _no_!" She shook his hand so hard that he winced from the movement on his other arm. "Draco! Oh, God, okay - okay. When that spell broke, just now, were you touching the ring?"

"Touch-- I'm _always_ touching the ring, I keep it under my shi--" "Were you--"

"It was..." His eyes lowered slowly towards their hands.

" _What_?"

"It was on my finger. The top of my middle finger. I yanked it off like that when I was trying to dig--"

She was breathing hard, like it was a physical exertion to realize it all. "Do you remember when I turned into that thing? When I was attacked by Bill?"

"Hard to forget," he muttered distractedly.

"I remember wanting everything you had, everything you were. I took your watch, your ring. I took your _ring_ , Draco, and I put it on, and when I got up, it was _over_. Remember--"

"You're saying that the ring..."

"I'm saying that protection spells usually use some sort of object that is offering the protection, unless it is a person, a promise, a protected space, or in a few cases--"

"So the ring--"

"Protection. This must be the object that offers the protection. The spell transfers it to our blood, intensifying the magic in the object, and the combined magic in both our blood makes--"

"I know how--"

"And if it broke that magic now, and it broke what Bill did to me - then maybe it protects against the _magic_ itself. Maybe it all went wrong because we didn't do the spell properly, and then the magic got us. But we managed to get a piece of the plant first--"

"Our memories were erased. We were on a _boat_ , you said it--"

"I thought we were rocking, maybe I was dizzy. I don't know! I don't know, but I do know that there is a line hanging down between our two hands on the figurine, this ring is connected to our search, and twice have been possible incidents where--"

"We need to test it."

"Yes. Yes, we do. Ugh, I wish I had that peach. Oh... If this is..."

“We still don't know the spell, even if the ring hasn't just been coincidental in--"

"It's a step to what we'll-- It's all connected, Draco!" She finally let go of his hand, looking at the ring, and then stomped her way through the water. "Hyperborea, the place where people lived one thousand years, where we found the journal that led us here. Here, the home of the wind gods, of Favonius, or Zephyrus, whatever you want to ca-- Flora's husband! Flora, Floralis, the plant. And the book! _If you find your way home_ \-- about the boy who had to live so long until someone took his place. And then we find a ring that protects against the magic on the Islands in the lake in Thrace. Thrace, where the wind gods had lived. In a lake that is supposed to lead to Hell. Like a giving up of the duty. Like they wanted to--"

"Calm the fuck down!" he yelled, and her mouth clicked shut. "I can hardly understand you when you're talking so fast, and my arm is screaming!"

She was shaking with the possibility, of the things all connecting in her head, and she grinned at him. It was a complete opposite to the painful and angry scowl on his face, but she didn't care. If she was right, if this ring was it, then maybe...maybe this is what changed the now from the past-future. If they hadn't joined up before, she would have never found out about the ring. They... Well, if they didn't find out about the ring, then there must be something else still. The line around their wrists - maybe that wasn't the twine, but something else.

So, _still_. This could have been what changed everything. And even if it wasn't, even if they had found it the first time, anxiety floated from her shoulders like clouds that they had found a piece of their future puzzle. They still needed the spell, they still needed to know if there was something else, but _this was amazing_. And if it protected against the magic! That run just might be her last.

She headed up the hill to get her bag, her mind spinning with thoughts and possibility.


	34. Part Thirty-Four

**December 15; 1:17am**

Hermione had not been able to sleep. Draco had lain down hours ago, but she had been too busy thinking. She had never wished for something with the magic to come more than she did now. She didn't care what it was, as long as they could see if the ring worked when one of them put it on. She had been going through every moment from the beginning, picking everything apart, when she finally realized something she should have realized a long time ago.

She tried to wait on telling Draco until the morning, but it was fighting a war with the tip of her tongue, and her silence was losing. She lay down next to him, figuring she would startle him less than hovering so he wouldn't make a scene or hurt his arm. She also needed to whisper just in case they were around.

She cleared her throat, scooting closer to him, and whispered his name very softly in his ear. A strand of his hair moved, and his face turned slightly towards her, but he remained on his back and sleeping. She reached down to touch his wrist, his knuckles pressing to her bent knee, and said his name a little louder.

She heard his breath suck in, and she took advantage of the small moment of wakefulness. "Draco, I have to tell you something."

He held his breath, and then released it slowly. "Am I on fire?"

"I was thinking--"

He groaned. "Grang--"

"No, it's about my dream - well, my memory, of our past-future. Do you remember it?"

He turned his head towards her, and her mouth had been so close to his ear that his nose brushed hers now. He blinked at her, his eyebrows pulling down. He groaned again, reaching up to rub his eyes. "Waking me up in the middle of the night to talk--"

"This is important, sh." She looked over her shoulder, pretending to stretch. "Draco, you didn't say Valentine's Day. You said _Valen_ , and then your face went blank. I think we had our memories erased, which I've told you before. Me before you, and I think that was the last bit you could say before they Obliviated you. You were counting on me to remember, I think."

She glanced behind her again, and Draco pushed up on his elbow, looking down at her. She looked back at him, and her eyes might have raked over the pull of his shirt against his torso like she wanted to crawl onto him, but it wasn't the time to acknowledge it.

"Valen," he whispered.

"Yes. You said _Valen_ , your face went blank. I bit your fingers, and then I woke up in my living--"

"Valencia." He was staring at her like he was reading the tiny print of the answer on her irises.

She nodded vigorously. "He was the one who did it. I don't know how, but he must have. You said it. It has to be him."

**12:13pm**

"We must have been past the barrier if they Obliviated us. I wonder if it was because of the plant, or because they knew about the ring."

"I don't know."

"Can you imagine if we knew about the ring this entire time? If we didn't have to deal with _any_ of the--"

He glanced over at her sudden stop. "We would have been home months ago."

"Did you try your wand? Did--"

"First thing I did when you went up the slope for your bag."

"Nothing?"

"Useless."

**December 16; 4:20pm**

"Sh."

"Sh, yourself," she whispered harshly.

"I can't help but adjust the sling every now and then before my _arm falls off_. You don't need to scuff your shoes."

"My legs are dying."

"Your..."

"I could stab myself and not feel it, they're so numb. Actually, that's a lie, because every time I move them, I get--"

"Sh."

She paused, watching him spin to zoom the binoculars in on something. They had been waiting on the ledge for three hours now. They were both exhausted. They had got very little sleep after their discoveries, and had been waiting for Valencia to spring out at them. They slept in shifts, though they always pretended to be sleeping, which was dangerous for tired bodies. They were only getting about three hours of sleep a night each, and the rest of the time was spent walking or hunting.

Finally they had decided to wait on a ledge, watching for Valencia and his partner to get some clue about what they were facing. If the ring was what they used during the protection spell, then Valencia must have had some sort of magic with him. Or he forced them into a situation with it. They knew the moment was coming no matter how fast they walked to the mountain, and it was better to find out what the details might be before they climbed it. The moment might not even happen at the second location, but she had a feeling it did - even if she was giving distrustful looks to the rock wall behind them, remembering the wall behind them in the figurine.

It couldn't happen now, though. They didn't know the spell. And if something happened in the book to reveal it to them, or it opened something, or stopped something, then it would probably be where the other symbol was. Especially if the second symbol happened to be a house like the first - a closer home that the inscription referred to instead of just the Islands.

Draco let out a breath that she almost mistook as just breathing, except for the faint hiss at the end. She held very still, holding her hair down to her neck to prevent the wind picking anything up. The last thing they needed was to be spotted now. It took almost two minutes - she counted - for her to hear the sound of footsteps below them. It was very faint - a brush of grass, a tiny snap of a twig, a crunch of stones.

Draco was holding his breath, his fingers twisting madly to zoom the binoculars in, and she saw his knuckles turn white. She watched his movements with wide eyes, and heard the footsteps fade away. He moved the binoculars up, straight ahead of them. If the men were walking that way, then they were walking the wrong way. Maybe Draco wouldn't think the footprint she left in the dirt aimed in that direction was so ridiculous now.

They were silent for several minutes, Hermione waiting impatiently, until he finally lowered the binoculars. "Do you have your map?" he whispered.

"My map? You have the map."

"No. The map from Thrace."

"The... The one I got in the cave? When the magic happened for the first time?" He nodded. "I think so. Why?"

"Have that little red string you told me you used?"

"I don't know." She gave him a confused look, glancing up to the tops of the trees in front of them, wondering if it was safe to check her bag.

"You had better hope so." "Dra--"

"He has the dagger."

"What?"

"The dagger. From the cave, that turned the water--"

"The one that melted my _shoe_?" she hissed.

"That would be it."

She pushed up, bringing her bag around in front of her, and Draco looked through the binoculars to make sure the sound didn't bring any attention. "You're sure? That... _that_ disintegrates things! If we get stabbed, or cut, or _touched_ with that-- I bet that's what happened to us, Draco. I bet the spell failed, for whatever reason, and we were stabbed. The blood on me. It would have eaten us. The magic would have just eaten us, and we wouldn't have been able to stop it in any way. Except for going back--"

"Is it there?" he bit out, and she heard the nervous shake in his voice.

She dug to the bottom of her bag, moving things that were so completely useless to her at the moment, and, _andand_ \-- " _Oh,_ _thank you, thank you, thank you_."

Draco sucked in a breath. "All right. The line around our wrists. The string, the ring... All right."

"The spell." His head snapped towards her. "No, I mean that's what we need. I thought you couldn't even touch that handle without the string. Maybe he has another one. Maybe it was just the blade. If we... If we fail--"

"I'll send us back again. Do you have something with ink?"

"No. I--"

"We need to write a note to ourselves."

**December 17; 2:04pm**

Everything had become a bit too much to handle. Maybe if she had a decent night sleep she would be able to function properly. She felt completely overwhelmed, and her body grew weaker the longer they went. She felt like she was struggling to get through a cloud, and whenever she tried to think about things, her mind would go off on some _wild adventure_. Like now, at the thought of wild adventure, she was wondering what people on safari did when a lion attacked their jeep. They turned into little stick figures running across white paper, and thought bubbles screaming _Aaaaah_!

She tried to convince herself that Valencia and his partner were right behind them at all times, to keep herself awake, but it just made her jumpy and freak Draco out - which was amusing by itself, but not at the moment. She pretended she was in the outback, hunting poisonous snakes that could get her at any time, but that just made her yell when she felt a stick move under her feet. Her imagination was not working well for her.

The gravity of the situation only weighed more heavily against her. She knew she should be alert and ready, feeling strong for whatever was coming that she needed to be strong for, but she couldn't gather it around herself for long. She imagined that everything was moving _suh-low-ly_ in her body - her nerve endings firing off little sparks instead of bright blazes, her white blood cells just pushing things around instead of destroying anything. She was positive that her brain wasn't relaying messages as quickly as it used to - it took her legs way too long to move.

She had also developed some weird lisp sometimes when she talked, like her tongue was just too lazy. Draco might have been in glee had he not been so worn out himself. She checked the book continuously, waiting, and hoping she had been right.

**December 18: 3:39am**

She could have cried when they reached the bottom of the mountain, for a lot of different reasons. They both paused, as if to take in this moment, and her hand swung out to Draco's. She just needed-- That, his fingers wrapping back around hers, and they started to climb.

**8:25am**

"That's it." She knew the moment she saw it, even if it hadn't been the only thing there.

It looked like the one in the cave in Thrace, the small, white, stone platform level with their knees. There was a circle of white stone in the shape of the sun that rose out from the platform, smooth in contrast to the rocky dips of the darker mountain around it. There was a circle formed by a deep groove around the flat stone, curving up onto the platform and ending at a small, empty basin in the direct center.

They ran towards it, every second rushing against them, stealing time. She yanked the book out of her bag, flipping through the pages, searching. "It's empty. Draco, nothing has changed."

He grabbed it from her hands, her fingers clutching air when she tried to grab it back. They stopped in front of the platform, and Hermione sent a look over her shoulder, around them. If it was the same as last time, Valencia would be there any minute. Draco looked around them frantically, and then laid the book on the platform, moving it around to see if it showed anything on the stone.

Hermione gasped so hard she coughed, flinging her hand wildly at the book. "Back cover!"

Draco flipped it open to a blank page as Hermione pulled the string off from around the map. He put it against the wall again, and black ink slowly formed. Hermione squealed, ushering for him to bring the book to the platform, and he dragged it down the wall, staring at the words that had appeared.

"It's Latin."

"It has to be it. We'll just read it."

"You want to perform _blood magic_ and not know what the fuck--"

"We don't have _time_!"

"If this goes wrong--"

"It's the only chance at it going right," she rushed, grabbing the hunting knife before throwing her bag to the ground. "We have to do it now."

She knelt at one side of the platform, and Draco stood at the other. "I don't think it says what to do. It doesn't--"

"Then we do it how most protection spells go. Draco, if you kill us by asking _too many_ \--"

He dropped to his knees, tossing his bag, and held the dagger between his teeth. He ripped the sling off with a moan of pain, staring down at the basin. Hermione grabbed the book from him, setting it down at the top of the dent, and positioning her knife on it to keep it open. She held her palm out as Draco grabbed the dagger from his mouth, and he met her eyes for a second before bringing the blade to her hand. She hissed in a breath and held it as he pushed the tip into her palm, slicing along her scar, her lifeline. Her blood flowed in a sheet across her hand, and she grabbed the dagger from Draco as he turned his broken arm to reveal his palm.

"Just do--" He was severely underestimating her in a time of crisis, because she didn't think twice before sinking the tip of the blade into the top of his lifeline.

She heard him hiss as well, and then the snap as he yanked his necklace off. She dropped the dagger between them as his blood streamed out, setting his elbow down on the side of the basin. She put her elbow down on the other, bringing their hands together.

"Help me tie this around our wrists," she breathed, holding out the one end of the red string to him.

He grabbed it, pulling it around to meet her hand, and their fingers were trembling clumsily as they tied it. He slid the ring onto his finger, the twine hanging down between their hands as they clenched them together. She watched the mixture of their blood squeeze out, overflowing down the back of their hands, and falling in a solid line of red into the basin. She met his eyes, a brief thought on how far they had come with her blood flowing into the willing wound of Draco Malfoy, and then they both looked to the book.

They started speaking at the same time. It was two paragraphs of straight, perfect lines, but she had no idea what they were saying. She refused to think about what would happen if they were wrong, if the spell was some trick from the person protecting the place or from the magic. She pronounced it as correctly as she could, and she felt something spring alive inside of her. A sort of buzz of power that started at their hands.

The blood was moving from the basin - she caught a glimpse of red starting up the deep groove on the wall, but she didn't dare break her concentration. She and Draco kept in perfect time with one another, and when they reached the end of the spell, they started from the beginning again. The buzz was spreading up her arms, across her shoulders, and dropping down hotly into her gut. Her head was starting to spin, and her very skin felt like it was moving across her bones.

Draco was clenching her hand harder, and she squeezed back, both their arms shaking. The buzz had taken over her entire body, rushing on the pulses of her blood, and the air around them was alive with thick energy. She couldn't even hear their voices, or feel her inhales, her wide eyes steady on the book. She felt a power she had never known before, like she could collapse the world on a flick of her hand, and she was bigger than the sun, the sky.

She felt she were a static cling of zapping magic in the air, weightless and a billion pieces, so completely apart from herself that she felt she held no body. White lines were soaring and exploding past her vision, there was a deep rumble of sound, and then there was no recognition of seeing anything. Not objects, or light, or color. The rumble grew louder, louder, and she was nothing but a field of power that existed, beyond thought, or humanity, or time.

Heat, building, and then _burning_. It sucked all those billion pieces back together like a tornado of fire, shoving them with brutal force, and she became aware of her body on a scream. The power had converted to pain, engulfing her in seven, eight waves of fire, her vision flashing a blinding white. Then it was gone - the power, the buzz, the light, the pain - so abruptly and all at once that it felt like it had been a violent blanket torn off from her.

She almost blacked out - she might have. Her entire body sagged forward, and if it wasn't for the hardness pushing back against her forehead, she would have collapsed uncaring. Her entire body felt drained of all things, and she tried to push herself to remember that distant, foggy notion of needing to be alert for this moment.

"Did it work?" Draco's voice rasped, cracked, dragged.

"I don't know. End felt a bit..."

"Yeah."

She opened her eyes, finding her forehead pressed against his, and concentrated very hard on the grey of his eyes to wake up her mind. "Finally."

He reached up, his fingertips just skimming her jaw. "We need to get up before Valencia gets here."

"I need some Invigoration Draught."

Something in his throat cracked as he pulled back from her, and they both looked down at their hands. They were completely covered in blood, but they had stopped bleeding now, the basin stained red but almost empty. She followed the groove up, and--

"Fuck," Draco breathed, his hand moving from hers. It was stopped by the red string, and he reached up to break it.

There was an entrance in front of them, a mouth of a cave, that hadn't been there before. The edge of the round opening was bordered by a groove of dark red that she knew was their blood. Her eyes focused on a single, tiny, blue flower. Her jaw dropped, the stem no longer than her middle finger, one dark green leaf at the middle. Two circular blue petals made it look like a bow was on top of the stem, tiny, yellow stamen waving from the center.

Draco pulled away from her hand, grunting at the pain in his arm, and her arms shook when she pushed herself to her feet. She stepped up onto the platform, grabbing her hunting knife, and put her fingers through the entrance. Nothing happened, so she stepped inside, taking three quick steps to the little... _Floralis_? Had this been _it_? This tiny--

She looked behind her as something scraped, expecting to see Draco stepping into the cave, but found a completely different scene instead. She froze, Valencia's arm around Draco's chest, the dagger - that _eating_ , Dark magic dagger she had thought she dropped in the lake - hovering in front of his throat. Draco's eyes were locked on hers, but Valencia and the tall man were looking all around her area, as if they couldn't see.

Hermione looked down at the flower as Valencia called out her middle name. "Jean! _Jean_. I think you should come out now."

"With Dominus," the tall one added. "And maybe we won't kill him."

_Jesus_. Her heart kicked up as she thought frantically for what she should do. They wouldn't try to kill Draco until she came out, and the flower was in their hands. Draco's hands were empty, but she had the hunting knife. There wasn't anything else around her except for the plant - no rock, or stick, or-- Damn it, her bag was out there, or she could pretend the spell had made her wand work. Maybe if she--

"If you come out now, maybe the first one won't be his throat."

Hermione bent to the flower, and after a quick moment of indecision, plucked the leaf off and shoved it into her sock. Draco watched the movement as he yelled, staring up at her in panic. Had this happened before? Had he pulled the leaf out of her sock on the boat, and sent them both back?

She went to carefully slide the hunting knife into the back of her jeans when she heard a third voice, her head snapping up. "Just get the ring. He has the ring, I saw it."

"She's probably wearing the ring, and that's how she got through. We need to get the ring from her, tie--"

" _Jean_!" Valencia yelled, sending a warning look to his _two_ partners. _How had they not noticed a third?_

Three. Three people. She couldn't take on three by herself. She pulled her shirt over the handle sticking out of her pants, took a deep breath with her fear an angry beast within her chest, and walked out of the cave. She held her hands clamped in front of her stomach, looking from Valencia, the tall one, and the third man.

"Found your friend, I see."

Valencia laughed at her. "Where is Dominus?"

"I don't know. I didn't go very far. It might not be in there." She held up her hands.

"Why are you bloody?"

"Where's the ring?"

"I don't have the ring," she whispered, stepping down onto the platform. If she jumped on the tall one, pulling the knife at the same time, she might--

"How did you get through?"

"It's in my blood."

"Wha--"

" _Where's the ring_?" The third one yelled, and Valencia leaned down to whisper something to Draco as he tried to get to his feet.

"We'll search them." Valencia reached down towards Draco as the tall man moved towards her, and her hand didn't even reach the handle at her back before Draco wrenched his hand into the air. The ring dangled from the twine between his fingers, and Hermione glared at him.

If they really could get through the wall just wearing the ring, _then they would get Floralis_. They couldn't be searched, in case they found her knife and the leaf, but-- Valencia grabbed the ring from Draco, tossing it to the third man. He grinned as he put it on his finger, striding forward. Hermione reached for the handle of the knife again, readying herself to jump on him, when the tall one noticed her action.

"Pu--" Hermione flung herself at him, pulling the knife from her waistband. He fell back, hitting the ground, and pain shot up her knees as she landed, though she hardly noticed. She pressed the edge of the dagger to his throat, his wide eyes staring into hers.

"Put your hands up. Lay them out above your head," she ordered and he listened, both their eyes darting towards Valencia and the other man when they started laughing. "Let him go, and I'll let your friend go."

"You let him go, and I'll let _your_ friend go."

"Doesn't work like that." Hermione shook her head, patting down the man to see if he had any weapons. She needed to get Draco a second of time, just so he could hopefully dive forward and grab his dagger from the bottom of the platform. Then maybe they had a chance.

"Your friend is already dead. You can kill mine if you want, but I'm going to kill your friend no matter what you do. I don't like him." He shrugged. "I can kill you after. Just a little _touch_ of this blade, and--"

There was a scream, the sort that came straight from the gut, and then it ended abruptly. She could hear something smack loud and wet against the ground, but she didn't dare turn around. The horror on Valencia and Draco's face said enough, and she watched both their eyes drift down. Draco shoved himself to his feet as Valencia sailed by him, and she heard Draco yell when he was out of sight.

"Don't you dare mo-" she started to growl to the man, but cut herself off when Valencia started screaming.

She jumped off the man, turning so she was facing him if he tried to get up, and so she could see what was going on. There was a heap of-- of-- She gagged, turning her head away from the bloody mass of a body half out of the entrance to the cave. Valencia was screaming as he tried to reach the little blue flower on the platform, and Draco was on his back.

Hermione ran forward without a thought, her eyes on Floralis, and fell forward when the tall man grabbed her ankle. He shot to his feet, and Hermione tackled him, slamming her elbow between his shoulder blades as she scrambled to her feet. Valencia's fingertips brushed the stem, but then she was there, yanking it from his reach. She curled the plant into her fist as something collided with her back, and sharp pain erupted across the side of her leg. She clipped her chin off the platform, her air rushing out, and she squeezed her fist shut so tightly that her knuckles cracked.

A hand grabbed her throat, yanking her back on a choke of saliva as too many things moved within that tender column, and she hit the ground on her back. The tall man landed on top of her with a knee to her stomach, and she swung the hunting knife out. It sliced across his forearm on the way to her pushing it against his throat. His other hand dug into the tight ball of her fist, and a line of fire slashed across her upper arm. She pressed the knife to his throat as the Dark dagger pressed to hers, and then he was screaming before she could even swallow.

The man flew off of her, and she gasped in air, her head a dizzy mess and her heart close to failing. She rolled to her feet, pulling her fist behind her back, and raised the hunting knife. Valencia was on his knees several meters from her, gasping for air between pained cries. The tall man was still screaming, shaking out his arm, and she saw that it was _eating away_. She could see the bones in his wrist as his skin burned back, tissue, veins, and sinew deteriorating. He must have cut himself on the dagger, and Valencia t--

It was both their right arms. The arms they had used to cut them. But the Dark magic hadn't worked on her and Draco, which meant _the_ _spell had_! And if their hands were eating away, then the new magic in her and Draco's blood must have made the magic in the dagger go back onto the men. Draco had yelled because Valencia stabbed or cut him, but then Valencia had started screaming because the magic reversed. It was the same with the tall man after he cut her arm.

Draco was panting on the other side of the platform, his arm cradled to his chest and pain etched into his face. He had the dagger in his hand, though she didn't know if the blood on it was just theirs or any of the men's. She bent to pick up her bag, and the movement seemed to set the tall man off. He jerked to his feet, the dagger pulling back as he ran towards her. They would want the plant - they would want to turn back time.

Hermione jumped onto the platform right before Draco did, sailing into the cave. She heard Draco gag as her feet slid through-- _water, Hermione, it's just mud and water_. She pulled to a stop, ignoring the meat and bones of what had once been a person, and saw Draco pushing a long, red string into his pocket. He had grabbed the ring then.

The man was screaming, pounding the dagger against the air in front of them, that she knew looked like a side of a mountain to him. He was going to die. He and Valencia would be eaten alive. If they weren't so content on killing her, and if she thought she could even possibly do it, she might have considered killing them to end the agony.

"Are you hurt?" She looked over at him, and rushed on before he could say what she knew was coming. "Besides your arm."

"I was cut."

She nodded, pulling out old, stained strips of her cloak, and he held out his forearm. There was a deep, swollen line still bleeding, and she wrapped it carefully. She could feel him staring down at her, but it was taking all her concentration just to tie the strip. "We'll find you another sling. Or get that one later."

She grabbed two more strips from her bag, wrapping one haphazardly around her calf, and the second around her upper arm. They would clean them later, after some sleep. Some time when she could even think about it without it sounding like too much effort.

They both watched, in silent shock, to make sure the men wouldn't find a way to cross the wall. The book was still out on the platform, but they didn't have the ring. Hermione waited until the man turned the dagger towards himself, and she quickly turned away. Draco followed her around a bend in the cave, and her knees gave out. She hit the ground on her bum, and he slid down beside her. She didn't think it took her ten seconds before she was asleep.

**1:37pm**

They climbed a set of stairs, sunlight blasting down into their faces, and emerged onto flat land. The grass was lush, trees dotted across the large circle of ground, and a house stood in front of them. Hermione's eyebrows drew together, and she glanced at Draco's exhausted face.

"Aren't we in a mountain? If we came out on top, it wouldn't be flat. It didn't _look_ flat." Her voice sounded used up, rundown.

"Magic. This is probably the top of the mountain - the peak is an illusion."

"Maybe we can only see it because the spell worked." She glanced at him as they walked to the house.

"It did. I think it reversed the Dark magic back onto them."

She nodded. "I was wondering how the ring worked. I don't think we knew about the ring the first time. I don't think we went into the cave. I bet that third man pulled it off of you, went in there to get the flower, and that the flower came out right as he died - like this time."

"How do you know?"

"Well... I didn't turn into... _that_ when I came out. I thought maybe it was because he had Floralis, but I had the leaf in my sock. I think that the ring might work against the magic set up on the Islands, but there's a trap for these places - the homes. They can't get out with the plant if the protection is not in their blood. Which is why the book was there, with the spell that only showed up when we were at the doorway. When we found our way _home_. It has to be in the blood or it will kill you. Like...a full acceptance of their responsibility to protect it, before they are allowed access to it."

He reached around her to open the front door, the handle twisting easily in his hand, and pulled it past her. She held her breath a little when she took a step inside, but it was pointless. The house looked as empty as the first had, though there was more furniture. She saw a couch, a chair, and a coffee table just from the doorway.

"Makes sense. We probably only performed the spell with the string last time - caught a glance of the dagger before we got there. You probably had the book, thinking it was some key like you did this time, except without knowing it would have anything to do with a spell."

The kitchen was empty except for a small table and chair, and the first door they opened had a bed and dresser.

"And it probably took me forever to convince you we needed to do it. We didn't complete the spell by the time they got there. They grabbed both of us, got the plant when the third one died, and stabbed us. I really wish I knew what happened. And how they knew about the ring. Maybe they knew the person who threw it away. I--"

"It doesn't matter. It was a different life. We did it this time."

She grinned tiredly, laughing a little, and felt his fingers in her shirt. She looked up at him as he leaned down, his mouth cool and soft, and he kissed her breathless. _We're all right, we're all right, we're all right_ _._ He pulled her bag from her shoulder, and she pulled off his, accidentally hitting her hand into his broken arm. He pulled back on a moan that did not please her, and she winced.

"Sorry."

He waited a second for the pain to pass, and then opened his eyes to look at her. "I'm not taking you seriously when you're looking at the bed like salvation."

She smiled, turning to crawl into it like the word bed was her final test at patience, and sunk her head into a pillow. Draco collapsed onto the mattress next to her, and she barely had time to press her face to his shoulder before she was drifting to sleep again.

**December 19; 8:00am**

She didn't know how many hours she had slept, but she knew it had been a very long time. They had fallen asleep when the sun was fully raised in the sky, and she awoke to it climbing back up again. For a short time, she had thought she might have only slept a few hours and that the sun was on its way to setting, but she felt too _good_. She was stiff, and filthy, and there were aches, but there was a sort of satisfaction deep inside her body that only came with good sleep.

Draco was still passed out, and she realized she had curled up on him in their Sleeping Position. At least he had been too busy sleeping to notice her all over him, clutching like he was the last comfortable thing in all of bedding. They looked like tragedy-torn survivors against the white sheets, and in eyes that weren't hazy with exhaustion and shock. Their clothes were torn and stained, dark red dried and crusted on their skin, coating an entire hand each. Both of his arms were swollen, one wrapped tightly in a strip of cloth. She had strips wrapped poorly around her upper arm and calf, over her clothing, and her skin looked as pale as his.

They didn't look good at all, but they were alive.

**12:40pm**

Draco bathed in the clean, clear water pond in the back of the house. She had caught a fish from its depths, and she fried it with her back turned towards him. He had opted for the nakedness again, and she didn't want to gawk at him, or something equally embarrassing. Maybe she had the right to now - he didn't seem to hold back when she was in her bathing suit. She still would have felt like a pervert...so she took long side-glances when he wouldn't notice.

The pond must have had magic in it to keep it clean, her suds disappearing when she bathed nearly as soon as they appeared. She decided to build a fire in the back of the house instead of using the fireplace because of that reason - she didn't want to mess with anything that wouldn't mind messing back. She liked the fresh air anyway. She kept taking breaths until her lungs were fully stretched, tasting relief.

"What do you think is at the other location?" She jumped at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to speak. She was also waiting for him to ask her about the plant shoved within the depths of her pocket. All that carelessness in its ball of torn petals and stem, with all that careful searching and protecting.

"I don't know. It could be more plants. It could be a house. It's the circle with nothing at the center, so who knows what we'll be walking into. Just because this part is over-"

"Doesn't mean there's not more."

She nodded. "It's a circle, though - I think it must be significant. That's what we keep encountering. The circle, the sun, in Thrace, in the basement in Orsova, in the cave with those two men, the wall out there."

"All except one being dangerous." She jumped again at the sound of him behind her, and she held out one of the sheets she had found in the house without looking at him.

He made a sound that might have been laughter or disbelief, and took it from her hand. She flipped the fish, and almost turned it back over again when she saw that the side was just a little burnt. It was like when her mum would hide the burnt side against the dinner plate - as if no one would know when they tasted it. A little burnt surprise, like that was better.

She thought Draco might look a little funny in a sheet, but she found her mouth going dry instead of holding back laughter. She blamed it completely on how low he had it slung around his hips, and the lines of his pelv--

"You're burning the fish."

Her eyes snapped down to the tin as she pulled it back, pretending that it was so hot it was causing her cheeks to warm as she pulled her head back. He went to sit, and she didn't notice that it was a silly thing to do until he paused.

"What?"

"There's a table and chairs inside."

"Oh. We might be turning into those jungle people."

"We've been here for at least seven months now. We _are_ jungle people, Granger."

"Try not to pull me into a cave by my hair, and we'll be just fine."

"Just take all the enjoyment out of it, then."


	35. Part Thirty-Five

**1:51pm**

They stepped very carefully around and over the mess of the third man at the entrance, and Draco looked like he had to really force himself to walk out of the cave. She knew the magic that had killed the man wasn't going to kill them, but one look at the body would have had anyone hesitant.

They gathered up the few things that had spilled from their bags, looking around for any sign of Valencia and the tall man, but only found a bag and the dagger. The bag only contained water bottles, wands, a pair of boots, and one caper. Hermione stared distrustfully at the dagger before grabbing it by the handle.

"I wish we had a pen so we could leave a note not to touch it."

"Anyone is going to sense the Dark magic coming off that. Toss it in the cave." She pulled her hand back, the dagger whipping away from her fingers just as Draco yelled out, "Don't!"

She snapped her head towards him, the dagger already gone, and saw his eyes wide on something in front of him. She turned as he stepped back, and jumped back herself, staring at the beast. It was standing silently five meters away, within the trees sloping down the mountainside. She couldn't believe they hadn't heard it at all - it must have come when they were in the house, perhaps smelling the blood. She wondered how intelligent it was if it had just stood there, knowing not to move a millimeter or they would hear it.

Draco's hand closed around her wrist, pulling her back a step to stand beside him. "Remember what I said about running?"

"We couldn't possibly run now--"

"If you didn't throw that dagger, I might be inclined to agree with--"

"You told me--"

"I didn't--" He cut off when the beast let out a hard breath, rancid hot air blowing against them. "It's back for revenge because of you. If--"

The beast collapsed to the ground in a tremble and huff of air. Decided to _lay down_ , and just _looked_ at them. "Do you think it's trying to trick us?"

"Look at that mutt. It wouldn't know--"

"But it would know enough for revenge?"

"Revenge is entirely different than intellect. It's an emotion."

"I wouldn't--" He pulled her back a step, two, five, and the beast remained where it was.

"Maybe it's the ring."

"You can thank me later for that, by the way."  
She snorted, and they both paused to see if the beast would move. "I would have found it myself. And _I'm_ the one who figured it out--"

"Steal all the credit. Merlin forbid if you--"

"There is no more credit! You didn't do anything but wear it around your neck--"

"It was too big for my pinky, and too small for my--"

"--key to stopping everything, while we went through all these horrible things--"

"Steal the credit, _and_ blame me. Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"Why did you keep it anyway?" She looked away from the unmoving beast, pretty certain that they had reached an understanding, and looked at the side of Draco's face. "If you didn't think it was worth anything."

"It reminded me of what I wanted Floralis for." No wonder he got that weird look on his face whenever she touched it - the person he was going against to get it.

"From the supposed entrance to the underworld - immortality? To save you from hell?"

He smiled bitterly and didn't answer, but she thought that maybe that was answer enough.

**December 22; 10:43am**

"Could you imagine if Valencia had got the flower? What kind of things he would use it for? A person so willing to kill for it. The other men in the cave, too, months ago. A little, tiny flower, and the entire world could end."

"They don't have to be a murderer to destroy the world, Granger. Some do it completely on accident."

"It's like an atomic bomb. Good for a few, but it kills millions, rips--"

"Sure."

"Seriously, Draco. One tiny mistake, and it can change _history_. They could resurrect Voldemort, or a world of zombies, or _anyone_. They could control time - they could control the world. You, me...and we wouldn't even know. Wouldn't even stand a chance at defending ourselves against it. By making time controllable, they take it from us."

"You're the one with the plant, Granger. You're talking about yourself." She closed her mouth, and both of them were silent.

**December 23; 10:22am**

He was fishing with her quill tied to the end of a stick, careful of his arm in the sling while he grumbled about how he wasn't surprised she didn't catch anything with _this expletive, expletive, insult, expletive stick_. The blood that had seeped into the white lettering of Aeolian Islands across his shirt, and the _an explosion_ _of paradise_ , had turned it orange. His clothes were torn, the white sheet of his sling was smudged red, and a strip winded up his other arm. He looked like he was in rough shape, but he was the cleanest they've got on the Islands.

The sun had gone behind the clouds, turning the mountain grey, blue, and deep green. She wondered if it would rain, or if the sun knew the magic might be gone now. It was cold and gloomy, they looked wrecked, but she was sort of happy. Just a bit pleased, sitting there, knowing the hard part was finally over, and watching him try to intimidate the fish with his glare and scowl. Content, maybe, in a way that might not make sense to people.

He caught her looking at him, his eyebrow twitching, and she grinned into her knees. "Laughing at me? Send the crippled one out in the cold to catch fish, and then laugh at him."

She did laugh then. "Cold? Wait until we get back to England."

He pushed his hair back, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. "I wonder what day it is."

"December, I should think."  
"Eight months with you. My survival instincts are fucking extraordinary." She pursed her lips and he grinned.

**December 24; 2:52pm**

She looked into the mouth of the cave, and then dropped her eyes to the pile of bones at the entrance, bits of torn clothing blowing in the wind. "I don't think it's usually open for people," Draco muttered, pausing in front of the cave as he eyed the bones critically.

"I wonder how long people have been trying to find Floralis."

"Long enough that the few who do would equal that many."

They looked at one another, and her hand swung back to find his, feeling his scar skate across her palm. Just in case the magic happened to forget, she planned on telling him, if he asked instead of just staring at her right now. "You don't think the spell only worked for us to access the other one, right?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," he muttered. "Check the book. See if the spell shows up on the platform."

She dug it out of her bag, flipping to the back cover, and tried to press up on her toes to push it to the top of the entrance. Draco let go of her hand to grab it from her, putting it against one of the sun rays, and the ink appeared again. "We're fine, then."

He took her hand right before they stepped past the entrance, and if she was happy about it, she didn't plan on letting anyone know. They stepped over the bones, winding through the dark of the cave. The torch had died on them last week, no matter how hard Draco tried shaking it and hitting it into things, and she secretly thought he had some Muggle instincts.

They found a door at the end of the twisting tunnel, and it opened with ease under her hand. Eight steps up and they were standing in a hallway, frames hanging on the beige walls. There were paintings, pictures of random faces, and a child's drawing. There were two bedrooms, clothes still in one of the dressers, a tie hanging over a mirror, and a dirty cup on the bedside. There was rotted food in a cool compartment in the kitchen, shelved goods, and a dirty plate in a sink. There was a page marker in the book on the coffee table in the living room, dirty clothes in the bathroom, and pictures put up across shelves.

"This must have been where he lived," Hermione whispered, though she didn't know why she was whispering. "The man Astherbey killed."

Draco nodded, his attention focused on the door in front of them. He pulled it open to another set of stone stairs, and Hermione followed him down, stopping behind him on the seventh one. She gasped at the blanket of little blue bows across the cave floor - there must have been about five hundred flowers stretching from a meter in front of the stairs to a cave wall in front of them.

They stared for a full minute, watching the stillness of the Floralis flowers, the tiny plants they had worked so hard to find. That they had nearly _died_ for, on more occasions than she could remember from the top of her head. All of that work, and their reward stretching out in front of them, unimaginable power in their perfect sideways eights.

Her eyes flashed to Draco's head as it moved, and her fingers twitched in indecision, but he just turned around to face her. He nodded his chin towards her, the stairs, the doorway back inside. "I want to see if the water works."

Hermione stared at him in surprise, rocking forward, back, and then turned to head up the stairs.

**6:41pm**

She still couldn't use her wand, but the fire started up under the burners of the stove when she approached it with a pan. She set about making pasta with a mouth that was watering enough to be worrying. Draco leaned against the counter beside her, his hair still damp from the shower, and slid the sauce across to her.

"We might have found heaven. Hot showers, towels, food. Just maybe."

Draco hummed, flipping to the next picture in the stack he had. "Did you look through these?"

She nodded. "The same man - and did you see that picture of him in London? That statue hasn't been there for at least a hundred years."

"I can't believe he only used Floralis for immortality, and to just protect the plant he wasn't doing anything with."

"Protecting it until the world was ready, or maybe when it would become an obligation to use it, passing the duty down to other people after a certain amount of years. There are pictures in there from when pictures were _invented_. I don't understand why they didn't just destroy it. I don't think the world will ever be ready for this."

"Well, at least he had his fun." She looked over at his amusement, and quickly turned her eyes away from the photo.

"Oh. I did _not_ need to see that."

"The position is picture worthy itself." Silence. "Can you--"

She blushed, shaking her head adamantly. "No. No, I cannot." She rushed onto an entirely different subject, glancing at the calendar that must turn itself to the right day. Or the man just liked staring at that date throughout the year. "I can't believe it's Christmas Eve."

"Five."

"What?"

"That's the fifth time you've said that."

"Well, it's a little shocking, Draco. We came here in the beginning of spring. And...if I was home right now..."

"We'll be home before the trees are even down." He had probably noticed her rapid blinking, and the speed in which she stirred the noodles for distraction.

"Yeah. I just...not the same."

He looked uncomfortable, scratching at his chest with his head turned away from her. "There's hot chocolate over there."

"What?" She raised her head to look at him.

He nodded his head towards the shelves. "Hot chocolate?"

She grinned and he shook his head, muttering as he walked over to get it.

**December 25; 11:28am**

"Merry Christmas."

He plopped down on the couch beside her, looking around the house like he couldn't believe there was nothing really interesting there. She was waiting for what they would do with the plant. She was waiting for him to say something, to sneak down into the cave, to fight for it. But she had already made her decision.

"Merry Christmas."

"What do you do for Christmas at your house? Do you do--"

"We eat house-elf hearts."

Her face dropped, and she narrowed her eyes at him, reaching out to pinch his side. "Not--"

"Ow, fu--"

"Ow! That was _way_ harder! You--"

"Play to win, rem--"

"Too bad you never wi--"

"Sh-- Granger!"

"Ha, ha, h-ow!"

"Doesn't-- _Broken arm_!"

"Did you want a tissue to wipe your te-- I'm bleeding!"

"No, you're-- Did you want a tiss-- Stop. _Gran_ \--"

" _You're ticklish_!"

"If you come a step closer to me with that evil delight on your fa-- Stop, now. I wi--"

"Ha, ha!"

**9:19pm**

She poured the hot water into both cups of chocolate powder, stirring them quickly. She heard Draco stop digging around in the living room, though she had no idea what he was looking for. If the man had anything personal - journals, history, whatever - he must have taken it with him. She thought Draco might be putting off whatever battle was coming between them until tomorrow, which she was glad for. Even if it didn't feel like Christmas, she didn't want to spend it screaming at one another, or turning violent in a race down the stairs.

At the same time, she wanted to get it over with. She couldn't know how to handle it until he showed her what he was planning, or until he made an attempt to get some of the flowers. She felt like they were standing with their feet halfway off the edge of a cliff, their arms straight out and holding hands. If he wavered, so would she, and if he fell, she would follow. It was all up to him, and she couldn't drop or step back until he did one of them himself.

She nearly splashed the hot chocolate across her face when she turned, finding him directly behind her. A wave of steaming liquid came over the rim of the cup in her other hand, spilling against the back of her hand, and she hissed as she hurried to set the cups down. She waved her hand frantically, glaring at him in accusation, and he raised his eyebrow at her.

She opened her mouth to throw out some half-formed blame and threat, when he stepped into the space between them. Her hand drooped in the air as she tilted her head back to look up at him, and he reached to take her burned hand.

"Think you'll die from it?"  
"Yes." She nodded, looking down at the sticky brown chocolate on her skin. "Of

course, it was your hot chocolate that decided to attack me." "And here I thought you were being greedy."  
She frowned at him. "Next time I'll..."

He licked across the back of her hand, and the burn only got hotter. His thumb pressed into her palm, running down along the scar, and her breath might have caught a little. "Did you put enough chocolate in there? There's--"

She gave him an incredulous look for actually pretending that hand licking was a normal occurrence. "You're a very oral person, aren't you? With the--" Her cheeks flamed at the smirk, the leer as he looked down. "I did not mean it like that!"

"No?"

"Well, it was unintentionally implied by--" He was trying to hold back a laugh - she could tell by the eyebrow, the clenching of his jaw, and the strange movement of his mouth. "You're--"

He brushed a smile across her lips before he could force it back, and then kissed her, his hand reaching out to grab her hip. Her heart spasmed, and she just barely started kissing him when he pulled back. He turned, his hand grabbing hers, and pulled her out of the kitchen. She allowed him to, following behind him in confusion for a few seconds, until she noticed their direction towards the bedroom. Her mouth fell open a little, and she glared at the back of his head.

"Aren't you being a little--" He turned, kissing her before she could finish her sentence.

She thought to pull away from him, just to show that he couldn't give her some little kiss and then drag her off to the bedroom. Just to tell him this came a little too close to the _pulling her into a cave_ _by her hair_ _thing_ , and that she wasn't going to take it, before maybe kissing him again. But then she thought that it might end up leading there anyway, and there was no point in wasting time when humans didn't really have a lot of it. She would tell him later, though, or next time, or maybe she would just drag him off so he could see how it felt. She--

He made a sound of pain when she pushed a little too hard into him, pressing herself to his arm. She made to pull away, but his arm hooked around her waist, and he kept her there. She didn't know how they were going to go about this with his arm-- Actually, she had read about quite a few different...Non-Sleeping Positions. She felt her cheeks warm as the images flashed through her mind, and his tongue dipped out to taste her lip, her tongue, her mouth.

He led them back a step, five when his shoulder scraped across the frame of the door, nine when they stopped in front of the bed. Her heart was pounding, flipping, squeezing in a way that almost made her nervous, but she was too distracted by his mouth and his hand bunching up her shirt. He slid it back and forth, pulling up, and she took her hands from his cheeks to pull it off for him.

She shifted under his gaze, and reached behind his neck to grab the knot of the sling. He bent his head as she pulled it over, and he bent further, her hands pausing awkwardly above his head as he kissed the tops of her breasts. She let out a heavy breath as he reached around to untie the string, and she was glad she was wearing the bikini top again.

He made to pull it down her arms before he seemed to realize that she was stuck holding the sling, and he pushed the fabric up instead, lifting her left breast as his mouth closed around her nipple. Her breath rushed out as she pushed forward on accident, her fingers tightening in the sheet. His tongue spun around, flicking, and she jerked when his teeth grazed. He whispered something, but she only heard the like this at the end, before he swiped his tongue one more time and finally lifted up.

She took a shaky breath when she met his darker eyes, and she carefully pulled the sheet over his head, lowering it down. He moved his arm out of it, and then held it to his chest, leaning forward to kiss her again. She pulled his lip between hers, pressing her tongue down as his lips parted, and tasted him against the hot chocolate on her tastebuds. She pushed her fingers under his shirt, sliding millimeters up his sides before his finger dipped into the front of her jeans. He curled it, giving a tug against the button, pulling her hips into him at the same time, and she moved her hands to undo it.

His fingers skimmed back and forth across the patch of skin at the bottom of her stomach, waiting as she unzipped, before pushing down to her knickers. She wiggled a little as she shoved her jeans and underwear down, her mouth sliding across his and back again. His fingers glided up her stomach, exploring the curves of her hip and up her side. She pulled up the bottom of his shirt before he reached the straps on her arms, and he released a hot breath against her before pulling back.

She slid it up sideways as he pulled his good arm out of the sleeve, and she brought it over his head. His hand was back on her before she got the shirt over his second shoulder, cupping her bum as he pulled her into him. He moaned lowly when he thrust against her stomach, and she could feel the heat of him through his trousers and shorts. She leaned forward to kiss his collarbone, the knuckles of his broken arm skimming her chest, and he turned his palm up to gently press his hand to her. She released a huff of air as she moved her face down, kissing the middle of his chest, and she could feel the hammer of his heart against her lips. She wondered if it made him self-conscious, with the way he held his breath until she pulled away.

She worked the shirt carefully over his elbow, pulling it from his arm, and his mouth dragged warmly up the side of her neck. She bit her lip on a moan when he found the place on her neck that brought them out of her, though she didn't know how he remembered. She moved her hands down his sides, to the button of his trousers, and she breathed a laugh at herself for the nervousness in her fingers. She unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them over his hips, and his legs moved up and down to slide them off the rest of the way. Her fingers moved around the band of his shorts, and in a moment of quick decision, she brought her fingers down over the hardness tenting the fabric. His mouth pushed open as he groaned against her skin, rocking into her touch, and her inhale shuddered.

He moved his hand from her to push the waist of his shorts down one hip, and then reached for the straps on her arms as she pulled the fabric down. He kissed her jaw, her cheek, her mouth, and she pulled her arms back as he slid off her top. She reached down to touch the length of him as he dropped the fabric to the side of them, silk over smooth rock, and he grabbed her wrist.

"Can't," he breathed, stepping them back towards the bed, and they both kicked the clothes away from their feet.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, licking his lips, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart. She pressed her thighs together, shifting with the ache, and swallowed dryly. "Sit back, at the top. Against the headboard."

Was that the one she wanted? Diagrams flashed through her head again, only two of them being possible that she was willing to do right now, but he made the decision for her. He scooted back across the bed as she followed him, the inside of her chest trembling a little with nerves, but she reminded herself that he hadn't done this before either. If she messed up, or moved awkwardly, then...then that might be all right.

He was holding his breath as she crawled up his lap, and she pretended he wasn't watching her. He released it heavily when she stopped, her knees to either side of him as she hovered over his lap, entirely too exposed. He reached out to touch her stomach, his hand sliding up to cup a breast, and she took a deep breath. He leaned forward off the headboard, raising his face to hers, and she leaned down to kiss him. Their lips slid, pushed, dragged, pulled, and she clenched his shoulders before reaching down.

Her hand moved front, back, front, and she almost laughed at herself before settling, taking him gently in her hand. He hummed against her lips, and she

lowered down, swallowing tightly. If she just...right...there, and pushed-- Draco's fingers moved from her chest to dig into her hip, and she lowered herself down slowly, catching their sounds against the back of her throat.

She stopped, filled up and stretched and wonderful, and tried to catch her breath. "Feels so good. Fuck," he continued to murmur against her mouth, and she raised up slowly before sinking down again.

She liked this. It took her a second to adjust to it, _but she liked this_. Control was hers as she rocked her hips, the little sound she made covered up by Draco's moan. _She_ was the one causing that, not just by her body but her movements, and _she liked this_. She raised up again, down, up, setting a rhythm as his tongue swiped across hers. She pressed into him, careful of the arm he was holding to his chest, and his hand slid around to her back. He started moving his hips up in time to her, and he kissed her harder at the whine in her throat.

He slid his hand up her back, gathering her hair, and pinned it to the back of head, sinking his fingers to her scalp. He moved his mouth to her shoulder, sucking her skin as his hips rocked faster and harder to meet hers. She curled her fingers around the back of his neck, his shoulder, time stopped, and she was completely and beautifully lost within him.

**December 26; 7:29am**

She yawned, Draco's chest rising evenly beneath her cheek, and she watched with sleepy eyes as the sun came out outside of the window. When they opened the glass yesterday, they only saw a cave wall, so the sunlight and orchard outside was an illusion, but it was still nice to look at.

She had tried to get out of the bed and get dressed before he woke up, but she had been too comfortable and lazy with satisfaction to get up right away. He had already been awake anyway, she had discovered, when the movement of her head brought his hand into her hair. She tapped her fingers on his chest, watching the sunlight turn his skin golden.

"Did I suffocate you last night?"

"Constantly. Sadly, I've gotten used to waking up with hair in my face and a lack of oxygen."

She smiled and rolled her eyes up. "One of these days you might not wake up at all, if my plan works. And I'll look completely innocent, with my untamed hair."

"I'm saving this memory in a Pensieve. Or cutting your hair off."

" _Try_ to cut my hair off."

She felt very strange bickering with him when they were both naked. She was pretty sure he felt the shiver go through her when he touched her hair to give a threatening tug, and worse, he probably felt her nipples stiffen against his skin. She thought to play it off like she was just cold, but then his hand slipped down her back, and he pressed her closer.

"I would hate to wake up to a fake sun every day," she told him, and his fingers stopped inching down.

"It looks and feels like the real one."

"But it's not. I think we all feel like we have to rage against the things that are bigger than us."

"Is this about time and tide again?"

"N-- I guess so. That's what we do as a world. We gradually force back the tide, go against it. Nature stopped being good enough a long time ago. Look at what they do to chickens!" He gave a confused look to the ceiling. "They--"

"I don't want to know."

"Fine, but I'm just saying that chickens with two heads and six legs is _definitely_ against the tide. Time is the worst thing of all."

"Time is cruel to all people, Granger, it holds no prejudice. Why wouldn't the world fight against it?"

"Because it doesn't have to be our enemy. Time brings things - relief, healing, memories, _life_."

"And it takes them away."

"Tide. Natural flow. It takes, it gives, it comes, it goes, over and over. This is the time we _have_ , that was given to us, and is easily taken away. The good, the bad, but it's ours. No amount of Botox or Glamour Charms or hoping is going to make it stay any longer. It's just pretend, and then people use up all their time wishing they had more of it. We have to accept the time we have, or we'll never be happy."

"Unless they find Floralis."

"Yes, but even then--"

"Yeah, I know, memories, feelings, forgetting flowers. Happiness injections."

"It's like the sun. Orbiting, revolving around us again and again. Brings changes in weather, in light, blooms flowers, sucks up the water, heats up the world. Stuck in its time of patterns, patterns changed by outside forces - clouds, storms, pollution. It leaves, travels, transforms the world. Transforming itself. Sometimes there are eclipses and all is dark. But it keeps revolving, moving past the things that darken it to the world, and it shines again. Moving through time, through our time, its own. But then one day--" She made a sound like an explosion, moving her hand back and stretching her fingers like it was coming out of his chest. "It will be gone. Its time will end, like all things."

"I wonder if that's why they have the sun drawn over the platforms. Around the entrance to their homes. If they felt the way you do."

"Maybe. Maybe that's it - a reminder of what they were manipulating their time for. For the time of the world, under the sun. To keep it in place. I don't want to look at a fake sun. Fake sun, fake light, fake warmth. I want a home in the sun. I want to age as it does, and I want to _feel_ every single thing in my time, and know it is _mine_ , and that it is _real_. Even when it hurts. Especially when it's wonderful. Or else all of this, every bit, has never really meant anything at all."

**5:32pm**

She looked up from the table at the thud in front of her, and settled her eyes on a silver flask, Draco's hand pulling away from it. "What is that?"

"I'm pretty sure it's whiskey, but I don't know."

"God, it has been in your bag forever."

"Mm. I think it's time we work out an agreement." She turned wide eyes up to him from the flask, finding his blank expression, and he pulled out the chair opposite her before sitting down.

This was it then. He wanted to talk about the plant - she was only slightly more thankful for it than him making a run for the cave. "What kind of agreement?"

"Fair is fair. We've gone this far together. You expose that plant to the world, and I get half. Whether you like it or not."

Did he not realize who he was talking to yet? "And what if I've decided to destroy it?"

He shrugged a shoulder, a moment of apprehension passing across his face before his jaw clenched, and he was decided. "It depends on how much fluid you have in those lighters." She gave him a confused look, a little shake of her head. "I'd rather drink the whiskey, but we'll need something to help burn it down."

She took a deep, sharp breath, and her eyes flicked across rims and swirls of grey. Was he serious? He was giving up Floralis? He looked very tired suddenly, and he pressed back in the chair, spinning the flask in a circle. "Why are you giving this up?"

He spun the flask, around, around. "Perhaps I'd rather a home in the sun."

**December 27; 2:25am**

They tested it first. Lit a flame under the petal, the leaf, the stem, and watched it burn away. They cracked open all of the lighters except for one, pouring them into a cup, and took the wood from beside the fireplace in the living room.

Draco had found three bottles of liquor in a cabinet, and they finished half a bottle of the rum before they even went downstairs. Draco was considerably more drunk than she was, taking as many sips as her - except that she had mixed hers with flat cola, and he had been drinking from the bottle. She figured he was building up the will as much as he was celebrating the end of their journey, of the threats against their life, of living in the forest of the Islands. She also thought he might be trying to get her drunk with all his ridiculous toasts - _to the end of salt and sulfur, of penguin wars, of sleeping on the ground, of killing to eat, murderous creatures, downhill walks, and to the doom of whoever the hell invented mountains_. She had to finally pull him towards the stairs when he fell silent and starting looking at her like oranges, which happened to be in the direct opposite direction he was trying to pull her.

They tossed the firewood randomly around the plants, and she opened her hand to let the scrunched, broken flower from the other cave fall to the ground. Her adrenaline was shooting through her veins, knowing exactly the amount of power she was giving up and burning to smoke. But she knew she had made the right decision - she knew that no one could be trusted with this. Not even her. Draco was giving short, low bursts of laughter in front of her, and she could bet that he was cursing himself and his decision in his head. It was that sort of laughter people got when they did or thought something so absolutely insane that it scared them.

He ripped the front cover off the book, _For if you ever find your way home_ tossed amongst the blue bows. She spread the pages out across the flowers, watching them wave and bend. "You aren't going to cry, are you? I'm surprised you managed to even get a rip in a page without rushing off to mend it up again."

"I'll be mending you up again if you don't shut up."

He raised his eyebrow. "The part about you healing me up after wasn't really an effective threat."

He watched the page she threw at him flutter to the ground millimeters away from her fingers, and the other eyebrow joined the first. She set the last page down, tipping a little at the change in balance, and took a deep breath as she looked around. Her heart was pounding in an excited type of fear, and she watched Draco stare too long at the front cover of the book. He felt her gaze, or just decided to look up at her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He raised an eyebrow and she raised one in response. Her hands came up to her hips, and he looked at them before exhaling heavily from his nose and pulling a leaf out of his pocket. He dropped it into the sea of plants, looking over at her like he was bored. She cocked her head, looking at his pockets and then up to his eyes. He shook his head and shrugged, and his face turning stony when she walked forward to him, stuffing her hands in his pockets.

"Your trust is astounding."

"You know I trust you."

"And yet, here you are, digging in my pockets." She switched to the other side.

"I just also know that you'll always be a Slytherin." She sniffed and looked up at him, and he smirked, grabbing her hips as he pulled her to him.

He kissed her, sloppy with the alcohol but good enough to make her blood rush harder. She slipped her hands around to his bum, still determined on checking him, and he laughed at her when she slid her hands into his back pockets. His hands pressed around to her back and down, wedging themselves into her pockets as he pulled her tighter, his fingers not really searching at all.

"Only fair I--" he started against her mouth.

"Who says I play fair?" He looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh, and she jabbed her finger into his chest. "Prat. I was very sneaky on our journey here, you know. I managed to trick you a few times before we got here."

"You did. You were _ruthless_ , Granger."

"Angered you enough."

"Like you would not believe." His dark look was not from the previous touching of her bum, and she thought maybe it wasn't the best time to bring up the past.

"Well, anyway," she said awkwardly, clearing her throat, and looked around them. Her breath shook a little when she pulled it in, and it seemed to bring him back into gravity as well. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Think we're safe on the steps?"

"We should be. It's all rock and stone, so the flames shouldn't spread far past what is burnable."

Draco poured the lighter fluid around on the plants, and she bunched up the last pages of the book in a couple balls. He climbed the steps behind her, stopping at the top. She took a moment as Draco's fingers trembled through his hair - a single second of her time to consider the possibility of changing her mind - and then lit one of the balls on fire, chucking it into the flowers. There was a burst of light, of fire, and sizzling filled her eardrums. She lit another, another, another, and threw them until flames danced across the blue petal field.

She took a seat next to Draco, accepting the flask he held out to her, and they watched Floralis burn.

**3:26pm**

She stood in a bit of shock as she looked at the black, scorched rock. Draco's face was set in hard lines over her shoulder, and he looked like destroying the plant had brought the weight of the world onto his back and he was struggling to move.

All that work, all the hope, all the fighting, all that time. She had thought if Draco decided on the choice he did, that they would be stepping back from the edge of the cliff, but instead she felt like she was falling.

"It's gone."

**December 28; 10:34pm**

"What are you doing?"

"Someone has to be the immortal guardians," she answered, setting their penguins down beside the cave entrance.

"They'll kill one another."

"I think they're done trying to do that now."

"I don't think they like one another much. If--"

"Penguins have mates for life, you know."

"But all of eternity?"

She hummed wisely, nodding. "Well, we can always come back to check on them. Make sure they're doing all right."

He gave her a look of appalled disbelief, and she laughed.

**December 29; 11:11am**

"You seem pretty sure that we're going to get through the barrier. It's disturbing. Just because we-- What did you do?"

She looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"I know that look, Granger. What did you do?" he bit out, grabbing her wrist when she waved her hand like it was nothing.

"I might have saved a little of the plant," she confessed, trying to tug out of his grip, but his fingers only dug in harder.

" _What? Why the fuck_ \--"

" _Just in case_ we need it to get out of here. I don't think we will, after the ring and the spell, and with the flowers gone. But just in case." He glared at her. "Oh, calm down--"

"Don't tell me to calm--"

"It's just a precaution."

"That you didn't feel the need to tell me about!"

"I just did!"

"You _checked_ me to make sure I didn't--"

"And you checked me!"

"Not thoroughly, _apparently_!"

"I will get rid of it the moment we cross the barrier. Or get back to England, since we'll be on a ferry. You can watch me burn it yourself! Stop looking at me like you don't believe me!"

"Easy for you not to trust me, but if I so--"

"Draco." He paused, giving her a malevolent look. "You know I'm only using it to be sure, and then it's gone. I'm sorry if I offended you back at the cave."

"Fine," he snapped. "I--"

He narrowed his eyes when she stepped closer to him, and she bit her lip, turning up his palm. She traced her finger over the scar. "Like the sun."

He pulled his hand away. "Just make sure you get rid of it, Granger."

**5:12pm**

She looked up at Draco, sitting several meters from her, going through some of the food they had grabbed from the house. She didn't know if he was angry with her over the plant, or if he was pulling away because they were getting closer to home. All they had to do was reach the shore, take a ferry past the barrier, and Apparate home once they were on land. It was all going to be over.

"You still have your wand, right?" He nodded. "In a day or two we'll be eating like--"

"Normal, civilized people."

"Hardly! I'm going to tear into that food like I've never known it before. And I'm not going to eat fish or fruit for _months_. And never squirrel or rabbit. Ever. Again."

She didn't think he was listening. He was staring out at the trees, silent and unmoving. She wondered if he regretted it that badly. If he felt that burning Floralis was another of those horrible mistakes in his life that he could never change - that he lost the opportunity to change. And when she started wondering that, she started wondering about a lot of different things concerning them. Suddenly, the idea of going home didn't look so bright anymore.

**December 30; 10:33am**

"--to know we weren't going in the right direction?"

"--anal about everything, but you've got to--"

"Like it's my fault! I don't know what your--"

"--question this, that, but this time it's all up--"

"--one with the binoculars and the monkey feet--"

"--go through-- _Monkey feet_? What is your _problem_ with my--"

"--just because you're angry for no real reason, and nothing that is--"

"--one who started walking away like you knew where we were--"

"--a day and we'll be back, but if this is you trying to hate me again for--"

"--waste of-- What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I know what you're doing, Draco Malfoy. I am not a _stupid girl_ , so if you think--"

"Here we go, on some wild rant where you don't explain a _single_ _fucking thing_ \--"

"--because it's not going to work. If you want to be--"

"--accuse me with every possible and impossible thing that comes into your warped--"

"--then do it, but at least be man enough to tell me!"

"Tell you _what_?...Your silence is golden, but at the moment--"

"Figure it out!"

**10:37pm**

She was almost asleep, Draco laying at least five meters from her, when he started to talk. "You were talking about after the Islands."

"What?"

"When you were throwing your fit earlier. You were talking about what happens after the Islands. If I'll ignore you."

"Well..." She blushed. "Not really. I was just... I was just thinking that you were ignoring me now, because you were going to...leave it to the Islands. That you wanted to pretend that it never happened once we left. That none of it did." He was silent for two seconds, and it was too long for the clench in her chest. "I just wanted to let you know that it isn't going to work. If you want to ignore me, pretend, whatever - fine. But I'm just telling you now that I won't forget. That I'm not going to pretend, no matter how different it is out there. That's all."

"Granger--"

"And I don't know if you remember our talk, about animals and people, and freedom. About the cages we build with our emotions, and having to break them to find freedom, but how we can find some happiness with what we have inside the cage. That it helps to break-- Well, I'm just saying that maybe I wouldn't mind so much if I were in your cage." She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head at herself. _What_? "That is, I mean I wouldn't...you know, I've got room in mine too."

It took her a long time to fall asleep in his silence.

**December 31; 7:02am**

She clutched the rail of the ferry with her heart in her throat. The leaf was safely placed in the zipper of her bag, and she felt like she was standing in an impossibly tight moment. She felt like a survivor. Like the Islands should have been burning down behind them. It made her bones shake and her skin feel heavy. There was still a state of shock to the edges of her mind, and she thought it was going to take her a long time to work through all that had happened the past eight months.

"Nothing about me is going to change." She looked over at Draco, dragging her eyes from the sea. "I'll always be the same prat. The world sees me the same as when I left. I still have the same past. I still have the same father. I'm still the same person."

She would like to argue that he wasn't. That the Draco who had come to the Islands would not have even dared to burn those plants - to throw all of that away. But she thought maybe he had to find out for himself, in time. And she thought she would very much like to be around to see that. Just a little.

"I don't wa-- expect anything about you to change." She looked back at the sea as it moved around them, pushing up against the boat. "I might miss you being around. It will be weird, I mean."

"Who says I'm not going to be around?"

She looked over at him again, watching the side of his face, and she felt the corners of her mouth curl. "That's good. I might like to spend some of my time with you."

He raised an eyebrow, and she saw his lips pull into a brief grin. "I might let you have some of mine."

She could feel her knuckles brush the back of his, and she moved her hand around to the other side, catching his fingers. He looked down at her, his jaw working, and bent to kiss her. She slid her fingers between his, tasting salt and the warmth of his mouth, and pressed herself closer. The boat creaked, their fingers squeezed, and then they were past the barrier. Past it with their hands still clutching, his mouth on hers, and the Islands behind them as the sun took shape across the horizon.

**fin.**


End file.
